


After

by satockery



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Post Pacifist Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, as happy as it can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:49:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satockery/pseuds/satockery
Summary: Sumo was the reason for Connor's first time experiencing grief.Hank was the reason for the second. Somehow, it was much worse.





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with some heavy loss, so please be aware of that before reading. The cause isn't specifically described too much, nor is it graphic, but it is cancer (linked to alcohol abuse), and there are mentions of it.

Sumo was the reason for Connor’s first time experiencing true grief.

It was only two years after the androids’ revolution, after Connor had himself become a deviant. Sumo had already been old; it was bound to happen. In fact, he’d calculated the probability of it happening during that year was high, at 93%. The harsh truth, however, was that no amount of preparation could have eased the pain he felt when his calculation had proven correct.

On November 29th, 2040 at 3:41 pm, Sumo died.

* * *

 

“Hank.”

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 45%]_ **

The older man stopped in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder at the android. They’d been walking towards their house after a fairly neutral day at the office, mostly consisting of paperwork. Connor knew the lieutenant just wanted to steal a beer from the fridge and crash on the couch, yet...he didn’t expect that happening. Not tonight. “What is it?” He’d asked, somewhat annoyed, but paused when he saw his partner’s face. “Connor?”

“I, um… I…” Connor faltered. His eyes were wide, seeming to search the scene in front of him frantically. “I can’t seem to detect...any heat signatures in the house…”

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 60%]_ **

“What do you--” Hank had cut himself off, coming to a realization. “...Sumo.”

The nod Connor gave was a mere jerk of his head. He saw Hank rush to enter the house, but despite knowing he should follow, he stayed routed in place. A part of him wanted Hank to come back with a weary smile, telling him his sensors were out of whack, telling him everything was fine. Wanted Sumo to come barreling at him, covering him in slobber and fur and affection.

But that didn’t happen.

Connor counted to three minutes before relenting. He walked towards the house as though his joints were rusted, fighting at an invisible wall that seemed to beg him to stop.

When he entered the dark room, he heard faint sniffling. He looked towards it, finding Hank curled over Sumo’s bed. “Fuck,” the man muttered, hands stroking the dog’s soft coat. “ _Fuck._ ”

A quick scan, and a notification appeared in his eyes.

 **> ANDERSON, ** SUMO

 **> BORN:** 04/12/2031 // **BREED:** SAINT BERNARD

 **> OWNER:** HANK ANDERSON

 **!! WARNING:** RECENTLY DECEASED

 **TIME OF DEATH:** 11/29/2040 @ 3:41 PM // **CAUSE:** CARDIAC FAILURE

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 83%]_ **

Connor could only stare in dismay before walking over to Hank, trying to push aside his own feelings. He knelt before the dog bed, placing a hand on Hank’s back gently.

They stayed like that for a while. Not speaking, not acknowledging anything, just silently accepting, though Connor felt as though it wasn’t quite real in his head. The more he tried to see the reality of it, the more a burning sensation behind his eyes formed and grew stronger.

At some point, Hank’s sniffling had ceased, and he glanced at Connor. “Don’t hold it in for me.”

The android jerked his head towards him, but his eyes didn’t leave the dog. His voice came out oddly muffled, sounding thick. “...I don’t follow.”

“This is your first time,” Hank stated. Connor’s eyebrows drew together. “Grief is...the worst thing to keep in. You need to let it out.”

Connor’s eyes flicked towards Hank, but quickly returned to Sumo. _Grief…_

[SEARCHING DATABASE…]

[“GRIEF”] _[_ _noun_ _]_ [ _DEFINITION:_ “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.”]

_Death._

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 94%]_ **

_Sumo is dead._

One minute his face was puzzled, the next, Connor was covering his mouth to muffle a sob that escaped against his will. A hollowness seemed to spread from his thirium pump regulator to every inch of his body, and he couldn’t help but curl in on himself slowly, pressing his forehead to the floor.

This time, it was Hank comforting him as his body shook against his own sobbing. “Shh…” he heard softly. “I know, son, I know.” He felt arms around his back, an anchor attempting to steady him as he experienced the jaws of loss for the first time.

* * *

 

The dream of Sumo’s death had unsettled Connor.

It had been twenty-nine years since that day. Connor was thirty-one years old.

He sat up on the couch, where he’d found himself going into stand-by not long after his head hit the pillows.

The first thing he noticed was how eerily quiet the house was. He had grown accustomed to waking with the sound of audibly laboured breathing.

A hollowness began to form in his pump regulator.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 40%]_ **

He stalled. A part of him knew, and yet he stalled. He checked his internal clock, which read 5:27 am. He ran a quick diagnostics scan, which turned up nothing aside from his rising stress levels. He glanced outside the window. It was winter, so the sun wouldn’t make an appearance for another two hours at least; the darkness, which usually comforted Connor, felt stifling.

93%.

That was the likeliness Connor had calculated of Sumo’s death.

At the beginning of the month, he had run a similar calculation. It had come back with the exact same number.

There was that burning feeling again, just behind his eyes. A feeling he had been dealing with a lot, lately. He ignored it, turning to the hall and scanning for heat signatures.

Face giving off no reaction, he could only stare at what he had expected.

[NO HEAT SIGNATURES DETECTED]

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 60%]_ **

Unsure of what to do, he leaned back onto the couch. That was all he really _could_ do, in the moment. His mind was blank, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. So he drank in these last moments of ignorance, the last moments of not fully comprehending what had occurred on December 7th, 2070.

He stayed like that a long while, selfishly, postponing the inevitable pain he would be forced to endure.

At 6:07 am, Connor finally got up. He walked to Hank’s room as though his joints were rusted. He opened the door slowly. The room was dark, but he was an android. He could easily make out the statue-still form lying on the bed.

He ran a scan.

 **> LT. ANDERSON, ** HANK

 **> BORN: ** 09/06/1985 // POLICE LIEUTENANT

> **CRIMINAL RECORD:** NONE

 **!! WARNING:** RECENTLY DECEASED

 **TIME OF DEATH:** 12/07/2070 @ 4:52 AM // **CAUSE:** LIVER CANCER

_**[STRESS LEVEL: 85%]** _

It was the alcohol, in the end. As much as Hank improved with Connor’s help, the damage had already been done. They hadn’t realized it until the cancer had reached stage C, any symptoms they saw sooner being written off as old age. They tried to treat it, but as much as Connor pushed, it wasn’t long before Hank just wanted to accept his end.

He had refused to be moved to a hospice, wanting to stay in the comfort of his home. It didn’t take long for the android to realize that he was prepared to die...was merely _waiting_ for it, at this point.

Connor could barely stumble over to the bed before collapsing to his knees, taking one of Hank’s hands in his own. Sobs wracked his body, threatening to crush the biocomponents in his chest and stomach. The hollowness had spread everywhere, no longer something he could ignore.

Through his naivety, he thought the feeling couldn’t get any worse. He thought he was seeing the peak of it, but as the seconds drew out, as his mind began to wander, it proved him wrong.

Where his mind had been completely blank not long ago, it was now cluttered with thoughts unwanted.

_“Lieutenant Anderson. My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”_

_...“What do you want?”_

_…”You know what? I’ll buy you one for the road. What do you say? Bartender, the same again, please!”_

_“See that, Jim? Wonders of technology... Make it a double.”_

_…_

_“You have a dog, right?”_

_“How do you know that?”_

_“The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What’s your dog’s name?”_

_“What’s it to you? ...Sumo, I call him Sumo.”_

_…_

_“But are you afraid to die, Connor?”_

_“...I would certainly find it regrettable to be...interrupted...before I can finish this investigation.”_

_…_

_“Connor! Connor you alright? Connor!”_

_“...Okay.”_

_“Are you hurt?”_

_“I’m okay.”_

_“Jesus! You scared the shit outta me… For fuck sake, I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?”_

_…_

_“Why didn’t you shoot?”_

_“I just saw that girl’s eyes...and I couldn’t, that’s all…”_

_“You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go…”_

_“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, and I told you, I couldn’t! I’m sorry, okay?”_

_“Maybe you did the right thing.”_

_…_

_“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor. Maybe there’s something to this… Maybe you really are alive. Maybe you’ll be the ones to make the world a better place.”_

* * *

 

_**[STRESS LEVEL: 95%]** _

An hour later, Conner was still kneeling by the bed, but had bent down so his forehead was pressed against the floor, his hands covering his face. The same position he’d taken in front of Sumo.

Except this time, there was no one around to give him comfort. No one to murmur soft reassurances. No one to share the pain.

He was completely alone.

Loneliness wasn’t knew to him. He’d felt it many times before, what with his small group of friends. Not only that, but it was no secret that he never truly fit in among most deviants. They had never showed him backlash, only kindness, but he had never been able to shake that feeling of oddity at the back of his mind whenever he was around them.

But he had Hank for that. The only person who didn’t give a second thought to what colour Connor’s blood was.

That person was now gone. For good.

It hit him that this was exactly how Hank must have felt after losing Cole.

It hit him that he had truly thought of Hank as family.

He had given Connor a home. More like forced him into it, really. Gone out of his way to drop hints that he wanted him to stay when the android began insisting on finding a place of his own. Dropped a rather obvious hint when he gave him Cole’s old room. _“This house needs a little more life in it.”_

He had been there when Connor struggled with his emotions, his thoughts, his freedom. When he began to show symptoms of depression, Hank was there to help him through it; he was the first to know what it was like, after all.

Hell, he had been there for all of Connor’s firsts. First time laughing, first time trying food for simple enjoyment, first time watching his favourite movies.

Hank fit every criteria of a parental figure.

Every once in a while, Connor would lift his head to scan the body once more. Every time, the result came back the same. He felt himself slowly break as the realization fully set in his mind.

Hank was the reason for Connor’s second time experiencing true grief. Somehow, it was much worse.


	2. Ageless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was tired of the notifications, the errors, the perfection in his software.
> 
> He thought he might be a bit tired of being an android.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one discusses suicidal tendencies and issues. If that's a sensitive subject for you, I highly suggest turning away. Stay safe.
> 
> National suicide lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

A week had passed. Connor sat at the kitchen table, considering the weighted object in his hands. His hair was a mess, falling in waves this way and that around his head, and he wore Hank’s ratty DPD hoodie. It was much too large on him, but that was the least of his concerns.

Eyes glassy and emotionless, he stared at the table in front of him, thinking about everything and yet nothing. 

Today had been his funeral. Not the largest of occasions, really; Connor had been the closest person to Hank, and Fowler had passed away a decade ago. He was surprised and oddly comforted, however, to see that many people from the police force had shown up--some retired, come to show their appreciation for working with the lieutenant, others complete newbies, come to show their respect.

It wasn’t, however, the funeral itself that now had Connor mirroring Hank’s destructive habits. It had gone quite smoothly--he had been asked to give a speech, and he did so, though not as personable as he could have. He thought Hank would have preferred it that way. He did not lose his composure during the speech, only showing a slight voice crack when he had ended it with, “Hank, I hope you and Cole can finally be at peace.”

It was none other than Gavin Reed who had left him with words that seemed to fester in the pit of his figurative stomach. 

It happened when Connor left the church after waiting at the front of the pews while everyone to leave ahead of him; he didn’t want to deal with more chatter than necessary. None of the retired officers said much more than a goodbye to the android--it seemed they understood that he needed his space. Some of the newer cops, however, didn’t waste time in grouping together around him, expressing their immense respect for his partnership with Hank, and deepest condolences for his loss.

It had gotten tiring quite quickly, so to avoid any more of it, he stayed at the front of the church near Hank’s coffin, telling anyone who came up to him with concern that he just needed a moment with his thoughts. When at last he took his exit, he surprised himself for not immediately noticing the man leaning on the outer side of the church. 

“Hey. Plastic prick.”

The android had stopped dead in his tracks. Though the voice was a lot more rough than it had once been, he recognized it easily. The feeling of annoyance reminded him of the time just before the android revolution had ended, when he was about to enter the evidence room to locate Jericho. He knew he could just walk away, ignore the pestering he knew would follow--it probably would have been for the better.

Instead, he turned towards the man, as he had all those years ago. “Detective Reed.” He acknowledged, immediately reminding himself that the 67 year-old man no longer held the title of “Detective.”

Gavin studied him with a scrunched up nose. “Just call me Gavin.”

“...Gavin.” Connor corrected himself, a bit sharply.  _ Just spout whatever bullshit you need to get out of your ass, already. _

He wouldn’t say his relationship with the ex-Detective was as awful as it had once been. Connor had easily grown tolerant of Gavin’s reckless behaviour, and in turn, Gavin had shown more maturity as years went by. When Hank had left the force, they’d worked multiple cases together, proving to be an acceptable duo. That in itself had lifted the lingering tensity around them.

Despite the improvements, Connor had certainly not expected what Gavin was about to say. He pushed himself from the wall he leaned on, shifting his weight from foot to foot before finally speaking. “...Look,” he began, “You and Hank...you had something. You were the only thing that managed to pick that asshole up when he was all but drowning in alcohol. You pissed me the fuck off for the longest time, that’s for certain, but…

“What I’m trying to say is,” Gavin sighed wearily. “Even if we had our differences, I’m not so blind that I can’t see that you made an amazing duo. As officers  _ and _ friends.”

Connor closed his eyes briefly, clenching his teeth together. He really didn’t need to hear this right now. Especially not from  _Gavin._

“And...I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be you, right now. Living a hell of a lot longer than the average human, not truly aging...fuck, you haven’t changed one bit since I first saw your garbage face. Gives me deja vu, or some shit.”

He might have laughed lightly, but was too taken back by the words. 

A moment passed, and Gavin began to look awkward. “Just..,” he took a couple steps closer to the android, placing a hand on his shoulder firmly. “...Take care of yourself. Okay?”

In return, Connor could only give a half-hearted smile and quick nod.

When he returned home, he found he couldn’t really shake the statement from his head.  _ I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be you, right now. Living a hell of a lot longer than the average human, not truly aging… _

It was true. While Hank had gained wrinkles and a bit of a hunch and more daily pain then he was used to, Connor looked at an unchanging reflection in the mirror day by day and woke up with the exact ease as he had his first day being operational. 

How much longer would he be alive? Numbers were all over the place--he had once heard an average of a 150 years before natural deactivation, but that number swayed, some saying that certain models could last for 175. With the government banning the creation of androids, Connor was the most advanced prototype in existence; that very well could mean that his life expectancy ran close to 200 years, maybe more.

Thirty years ago, the thought might have brought him comfort. With the safety of Hank and Sumo, the beginning of his freedom and therefore his life, it had been so easy to turn a blind eye to reality. So easy to pretend everything would stay the exact same, as he would.

Now, the thought terrified him. He found himself understanding why Hank had sunk into such a deep depression, going so far as to develop suicidal tendencies. The thought of going on, of continuing with life seemed so  _ cruel _ . 

The thoughts swam around his head as he sat at the kitchen table, looking the epitome of depression, holding Hank’s revolver in his hands. He held it as though it was an artifact, as though it would break if he were too rough with it.

A notification had been blinking at him in his sight, and he finally focused on it.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 96%]_ **

That high already? And yet he felt quite calm as he regarded the gun in his hands, flicked the chamber out to make sure a single bullet was still inside, spun it once, and flicked it back in place. 

_ Russian roulette. _

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 98%]_ **

**_!! WARNING:_ ** _ STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL _

**_CHANCE OF SELF-DESTRUCTION:_ ** _ 99% _

_ Yeah, yeah _ . Connor was tired.  _ I get it. _ Tired of the notifications, the errors, the perfection in his software. 

He thought he might be a bit tired of being an android. He wondered if that was why Gavin’s words had hit so hard.

With a sigh that he didn’t need, he brought the gun up to his head, pointing it at his temple. 

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 99%]_ **

**_!! WARNING_ **

**_!! WARNING_ **

**_!! WARNING_ **

_ Let’s let fate decide, then. _

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 100%]_ **

**_COMMENCING SELF-DESTRUCTION_ **

That was the last notification he paid attention to. He thought another, longer string of code appeared in his site, but ignored it.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

 

A year after the androids’ revolution, things felt more settled. They weren’t perfect, but it began to feel  _ normal _ . No longer was there talk of how the fight for android rights was for naught; only anti-android groups bothered to question it, anymore. It was still a hot topic for news stations, but people had grown accustomed to that, as well.

It was at this time as well that Connor had finally begun to feel settled. He had a home with Hank, he had a job at the DPD, he had friends with those at Jericho. Finally, he began to feel comfortable with living a free life. 

But with a free life meant dealing with more...human problems. Specifically, with his partner. They got along rather well for the most part, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their moments.

February 4th, 2040 was one of those days. It was one Connor would not soon forget.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 95%]_ **

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 98%]_ **

**_!! WARNING:_ ** _ STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL _

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 96%]_ **

“I have no fuckin’ clue what to do. He keeps saying his stress level is out of whack, and that makes me too scared to say anything.”

The voice belonged to Hank, who was standing at the side of the living room, facing away from a shell-shocked, jittery Connor sitting on the couch. He was talking on the phone, and the android vaguely remembered him saying it was to Markus.

“Ask him what?--Shit, isn’t that going to make it worse?...Okay, okay…”

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 93%]_ **

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 98%]_ **

“Connor,” Hank began, voice calmer than he’d ever heard it.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 92%]_ **

“I need you to, uh, tell me the, uh, probability of self-destructing..?”

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 96%]_ **

Connor used what little brain power he had to run the test. 

**_CHANCE OF SELF-DESTRUCTION:_ ** _ 95% _

“95%” He said, his voice on auto-pilot, sounding almost mechanical. He focused on Sumo’s head on his lap, focused on the soft fur his hands seemed to clutch to like a lifeline.

“Jesus. Shit,” Connor heard, and vaguely registered the man turning back around to speak on the phone again. “He says it’s 95%. Fuck. Shit. What the fuck do I do? I can’t lo--hm?...Yeah, well that’s great, how the fuck do I do that?”

Connor began to rock back and forth, images of what had happened that day flashing through his mind like a broken record.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 97%]_ **

It was supposed to be a simple investigation. In fact, there wasn't supposed to be anyone at the crime scene; it had already been searched out, blocked off. Hank and Connor had been sent to search one last time after a lead had pointed back to the abandoned warehouse where the case had originated.

It had started with a hate group--those were the duo’s specialty as of late, but where they were accustomed to anti-android groups, this one was anti-human--that is, androids who couldn't forgive humans for their mistreatment. Connor supposed he should have expected it at some point.

The lead had been a trap. That much was clear when they heard guns at the sides of their head upon entering. No sooner than he could put his hands in the air, Connor had sent a SOS message back to everyone at the DPD.

“Don’t move. Easy now, make it to the center of the room, get on your knees.” A voice spoke in monotone, and the pair obeyed.

“Wait, Zack! This guy’s one of us.”

“Is that so? Probably being brainwashed.”

And the next events came in flashes.

Connor being raised from his knees, taken to stand with the group but still held at gunpoint by who he assumed was Zack. His next words made his blood boil, made him want to rip out the android’s pump regulator. “We can  _ save _ you. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but this fucker has been _using_  you.”

Connor spitting in the man’s face. Connor being forced into a chair, hands tied behind his back. Sitting helplessly, watching his partner being downright tortured right in front of him.

He knew Hank was tough, but somehow, it made him break. He watched as a gun was pointed against his partners head, could only beg, plead for them to stop, struggle against the rope against his wrists as Zack went on to say, “This is for the best. Soon, you’ll realize.”

And then the DPD had burst in, Fowler at their front, calling for the androids to freeze. Connor only stared at his feet, shaking. Hank had rushed over to him, desperately calling for his attention, but the android was too entranced by his rising stress levels to even realize his hands had been untied.

A visit to the ER told them that Hank had only suffered minor injuries, and would be fine with rest. But that didn't erase Connor's helplessness. He'd left with the realization that Hank was his largest--and perhaps only--vulnerability.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 98%]_ **

Hence their current situation, hence Connor having a panic attack thinking of the  _ what if’s _ .  _ What if Fowler hadn’t made it in time? What if I wasn’t able to send the message? _

_ What if Hank had died? _

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 99%]_ **

Unable to hold it in any longer, he let out a sob. Hank was there in no time, holding his shoulders steady, speaking softly. It seemed the phone call had ended. 

“Connor, look at me,” he finally heard, and complied. “I’m safe. You’re safe. We’re okay.”

He finally spoke, sounding desperate and anxious, knowing one wrong move could send himself into self-destruction. “M-my stress levels...can’t--I can’t control…”

A hand rose to his head, stroking his hair gently. A fond look appeared in Hank’s eyes, and Connor realized how hard he was trying to stay calm. “It’s okay. You’re panicking. We need to get you calmer, okay? How about...breathing. Try to breath a bit more steady.”

A nod. Connor felt his breathing. He didn’t need to breathe, in fact he imagined it had been pretty off-and-on for the past while, but he focused on it, anyway. It felt...soothing.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 95%]_ **

_ In...out...in...out. _

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 90%]_ **

“I-it’s lowering.” Connor mumbled.

“Okay, good. Great,” the relief was plain in the lieutenant’s voice. “Now, uh, how about releasing your grip a little.”

He looked down at his hands, slowly decreasing their clench. He didn’t realize how long they'd been in that position until it was difficult to move his fingers. He was finally able to release his grip on Sumo, and instead moved his hands to smooth out the fur shakily.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 80%]_ **

A sigh escaped Connor’s lips. He felt some tension leave his shoulders, and slouched. “It’s working.”

And all of a sudden, he was being pulled in for a hug. Hank’s arms were strong, making him feel rooted.

**_[STRESS LEVEL: 65%]_ **

“...Scared the shit out of me…” Hank was mumbling into the android’s shoulder.

After a while of letting himself relax, Connor returned the embrace. “I’m not sure what got into me,” he admitted, voice weak.

“Connor...you were scared. ‘Probably felt helpless as shit back there, even though you saved us with your internal messenger thingy.”

A half-hearted shrug. “I suppose. I just didn’t anticipate myself to...um..,” he glanced at the lieutenant with gentle eyes. Slowly, he admitted, “I didn’t realize how much I...cared...about, um, you.”

Hank laughed a bit, but it held a gentleness. “Damn, couldn’t have said that with anymore hesitation,” he paused. “I care...er, I mean, me, too.”

With a small smile, Connor scratched the back of his head. He didn’t have an itch, wasn’t sure it was possible for android’s to have that kind of sensation. Merely one of those pointless habits he’d picked up from humans. Mainly Hank.

The older man drew away, looking at him steadily. He seemed to be unsure of what he was about to say. “What will you do when I die?”

The android cringed at the question. “I…” He began, and a thought occurred to him; on reflex, his eyes flicked to a cupboard, where he knew Hank kept his gun. He immediately drew his gaze away--

Hank stood up very suddenly, a look of shock on his face. Connor knew he’d seen his glance, and that he’d put two and two together immediately. “ _ No _ . Tell me you wouldn’t...no.” 

Connor looked down, feeling a sudden terrible pain in his stomach.  Hank seemed about ready to blow a fuse, and before it could happen, Connor interjected, “I don’t  _ know _ , okay?” He felt the man’s eyes burning holes in him. “You’re about the only thing I have. The people at Jericho...you know of the issues between us, you know how awkward I am around them--”

“Then  _ fix _ it--”

“I had my fucking gun trained on Markus--”

“Yeah, well he’s still alive and kickin’--”

“I know they don’t  _ trust _ me--”

“Yeah, well, lemme have a talk with ‘em--”

“You don’t get it, Hank--”

“Kid, you’d be surprised--”

“You--you’re the closest thing I have to family!” It came out on impulse, and he thought he might have regretted it. It certainly made Hank close his mouth. “...That is to say, I’m not sure what family is and I know we’re not related, but many studies indicate that people can have bonds that would otherwise be akin to “family” and pertain similar benefits, despite a lack of blood relation. I apologize, that may not be the most appropriate term, it’s just that you’re all I know and you gave me a home and I know it was largely because having someone else in the house was a good distraction for you and--”

“Connor.” Hank said, finally interrupting the android’s sudden rambling.

“Yes?” He finally looked up.

“Shut up.”

A nod.

The lieutenant let out a hefty sigh, sitting on the coffee table in front of Connor. He massaged his eyelids with a hand before speaking again. “Look, I’m gonna say some shit that you’re not gonna like, but you’re gonna sit tight and listen, because you basically just said you might fuckin’ kill yourself if I died, and now I’m scared shitless,” he said this rather quickly, and Connor thought most of it was to himself. “Got it?”

Another nod.

“Good.” Hank seemed to pause to gather himself. “Connor, we’re goddamn cops. That already means we’ve got a chance of getting killed on the job. Aside from that...as much as you’ve pestered me to stop, the damage is done; there’s a big chance I’ve drunk myself to an early grave,” Connor knew this. He knew perfectly well. So why did it hurt so much to hear? “I’m already an old bastard. Sure, society’s doing everything to make people immortal, but it sure ain’t happening during my lifetime.

“But you, Connor, you’re a _year_ _old_. There’s so much shit you can do. You’ve already done a hell of a lot more than I could have in the time you’ve been alive--or operational, whatever the fuck you want to call it,” there was a long pause, but Connor knew he wasn’t finished. He waited patiently. “Connor, I’m only going to say this once. Blood related or not, you’re a hell of a lot more than a partner, to me. If not for you, my grave would’ve already been dug. You saved me from that, and the thought that you might have that same fate waiting for you… Jesus, that kills me.”

Hank was crying. Well, not quite, but he looked like he was close to it, voice thick, eyes watery and red.

It was that moment that made Connor realize his mistake. Not only did he realize the truth behind the lieutenant’s words, but just how much of a betrayal it would be for him to follow the same path Hank had tried to walk down after his son’s death--especially after he'd gone through lengths to prevent it. A betrayal of his trust, his hospitality, their friendship. It made Connor sick with regret.

“I...I’m sorry.”

A pause, and Hank sniffled a bit. “No, it’s okay. I can’t imagine how fuckin’ hard it would be to deal with all these new emotions,” he paused, and a desperate look crossed his face. “But you have to promise me, Connor. Please. Don’t put a gun against your own head. Not for me, not for anyone or anything.”

They stared at each other, and Connor’s nod spoke a million words. 

Later that night, or rather very early the next morning, when Hank had finally retired to his bed, Connor thought too much. Through those thoughts, he wondered if his nod, his weak promise to Hank, had been truthful. 

Playing around with some coding, he found he was able to set a safety net; a memory that would automatically play if ever his stress level rose to the point of self-destruction. There was no telling that it would work, but he didn’t trust his own emotions otherwise.

He needed to live. Needed to experience. Needed to love more, laugh more; needed to find more places like the bridge to just sit and think, needed to listen to more Knights of the Black Death. Hank had allowed him to do that, been there for the experiences, helped _create_ them. It was his job to pay it back in kind.

* * *

 

_Click._

**_[SELF-DESTRUCTION BYPASS]_ >>> MEMORY REPLAY: **COMPLETE  


**END OF MEMORY LOG** #29785

**!! SELF-DESTRUCTION SUCCESSFULLY BYPASSED**

_**[STRESS LEVEL: 85%]** _

Tears were streaming down Connor's face.

He'd won the game of Russian Roulette. The fact didn't bring him any joy.

The gun was still pressed against his temple. Upon realizing, he dropped it as though it were hot. It made a loud and stomach-clenching  _thud_ as it hit the floor, the only sound for what seemed like miles.

The memory had worked: he was no longer driven to do anything to cease his functionality What it didn't do was erase the fact that Connor had pulled the trigger.

He'd shot himself. Tried to and failed, yes, but he still tried.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, hoping to hell the words would somehow find the person they were silently addressed to. He slowly covered his face with both hands. "I'm so sorry."

Quiet sobs escaped him. He thought his thirium pump might be obstructed, thought the pain in his chest couldn't possibly be merely emotions. How could grief feel like a hollowness, regret like a gaping hole, depression like a dull ache? All it once, and Connor thought his biocomponents were imploding. Perhaps there was an issue of some sort, something he'd missed during his scans.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but his crying and the gun on the floor next to him.

Nothing but a silent promise to move forward, to do, to learn, to experience.

Nothing but grief, something he feared to experience for the rest of his ageless life.

But Hank had done it. Hank had experienced it, lived with it, and in the end moved forward.

He would, too. He had to.

_**[STRESS LEVEL:**   **65%]**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went deep and then deeper...I apologize. Next chapter is planned out to be a lot lighter.
> 
> Work sucks right now and I didn't finish this one as quickly as I anticipated, so I'm thinking the next update will take a little longer. But maybe I'll surprise myself!


	3. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank Anderson had left everything to his only living son.
> 
> His only living son was Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me way longer than it needed to and I apologize. It's also way longer than I expected. That's what I get for not properly planning.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

A knock on the door forced Connor out of stand-by. He drew up weakly, looking around himself with a sense of disarray; his head had been planted on the kitchen table, a million used Kleenexes covering the surface.  _ Crying myself to sleep, _ he thought meekly,  _ that’s a new one. _

Who needed to talk to him in person at what his internal clock read to be 7:28 am, was beyond him.

He quickly gathered the tissues, throwing them in the garbage, straightened out the old hoodie as well as was possible, and gave a glance to his hair in the TV screen reflection to smooth it out. It didn’t really help, and to be honest, Connor didn’t really care.  _ That’s a new one, too. _

He breathed a sigh, trying to put on an expression that might be read as pleasant if the visitor didn’t think too hard on it, and opened the door.

The woman standing there was the quintessential image of professional, and yet looked incredibly down to earth. Her red hair was wavy and chin length, assisting her image while not looking too intimidating, She wore a simple greyish-blue suit and black stilettos, making Connor question how she was still standing. 

She gave a lovely smile, hazel eyes crinkling at the edges. “Connor Anderson?”

He blinked. Yes, his legal surname had been changed to Anderson once the law allowed it, but rarely was it ever used. It felt so official. “Uh, yes, that’s me.”

She extended a hand lazily, and he slowly took it. “Miles Lee. I’m your and Hank’s lawyer, though I don’t believe we’ve had the privilege of meeting.”

Connor paused, holding onto her hand a moment longer than necessary before finally letting it go. “Lawyer..?” The pieces fit together quickly, however, and a new sort of sadness settled in his chest. “Ah, of course… I understand I shouldn’t be staying here any longer than necessary, but if it wouldn’t be any trouble, I just need one more day to pack my things and find a temporary place to stay. But I promise, I have no intention of putting up resistance; I understand I need to leave.” The house belonged to  _ Hank _ . He had hoped they wouldn’t bother him about the issue so quickly, nevertheless by a lawyer, but the law was the law, in the end.

And besides, he had no need of the house. It was only making him more depressed at this point, nothing more than an asset to fuel his memories. This was where he’d found a family, and with that a home; he wasn’t sure it could remain a home without the people he loved. No more Sumo, and now, no more Hank. 

Except Miles only stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about?” At Connor’s clear look of confusion and fatigue, she smiled sympathetically. “I’m here to discuss Hank’s will--that’s why he hired me not long after being diagnosed. You’re not being kicked out.”

“Oh,” Was all Connor managed to say. His lips remained parted, eyebrows drawn together. He looked at the ground, contemplating, realizing he felt relieved. He opened his mouth to say something more, but all he got out was another more stressed, “ _ Oh. _ ”

When he looked back up, the small smile on Miles’ face was warm. She peaked around him, as though trying to get a look at the dark room behind him. “May I come inside?”

It took a moment for him to reply, a sudden memory replaying in his mind. A gruff voice, filled with hope and a fondness that Connor would not recognize for a time to come.  _ Stop lookin’ so damn uptight, your makin’ me anxious. This is your home. Relax. _ Connor suddenly found himself realize just how hard it would be to leave this house for good.

“Yes, of course.” He finally answered, moving out of the way to let the lawyer inside.

They sat at the kitchen table across from each other, and Connor was relieved he’d thrown away the tissues. In fact, he was for once glad he didn’t need to eat; it made it easier to keep the house clean during this period of depression. 

He sat stiffly as Miles brought a folder from her briefcase, opening it on top of the table to reveal a neatly organized array of papers. He considered scanning them to find out what they were about, but decided against it; it hadn’t taken him long after becoming a deviant to realize the boundaries crossed when scanning outside of cases, and his later years he’d found himself not even bothering with it.

The lawyer gave him a knowing look, seeing him gaze at the folder. “It looks more intimidating than it is,” she said lightly, and he gave a small smile. "Mr. Anderson requested it be done primarily on paper, I figured you might appreciate the same. Of course, there's a digital copy of everything, as well." He did appreciate it, but was surprised Hank had gone through the effort. It wasn’t long before her face became serious, the light-hearted and caring personality exchanged for professionalism. “So, tell me, Connor, did Hank mention anything about his will to you?”

The android merely shook his head. “He didn’t mention anything, admittedly,” he started, and paused to think. “Now that I think about it, there were times when he mentioned an appointment he needed to go to alone, but I assumed it was just regarding his health. He sparsely kept things hidden from me, so this is a surprise.” He admitted. “A welcome one.” Was hurriedly added on, him not wanting Miles to think he was upset about the secret.

She hummed in reply, writing a short note in a journal she layed out to the side. It was rare to see handwriting these days, but he found a great appreciation for it and made a silent vow to handwrite more often. “Okay. I’ll show you the final copy of his will, you can look over it, and then we can discuss,” she said, and picked up a package, flipping it over and sliding it to Connor. “Take your time.”

He could feel the beat of his thirium pump quicken slightly. He picked up the paper, and though he could register the information through one simple scan, opted to read it properly. 

**_The Last Will and Testament of Hank Anderson_ **

He closed his eyes briefly at the words, breathing in and out deeply. He wasn’t certain what was making him so nervous. He began to read:

**_Article I_ **

**_Preliminary Declarations_ **

 

_ I revoke all prior wills and codicils. _

_ I have one living adoptive child, named Connor Anderson, the model RK800 android #313 248 317 - 52. _

...What?

“Uh, Ms. Lee, I believe there’s a mistake.” He said simply, dumbfounded, eyes not leaving the last line he’d read.

“Please, call me Miles. What seems to be the problem?”

Connor looked up at her. “I’m not legally Hank’s son,” He said it as if he were saying the sky is blue. “Yes, my surname is Anderson, but that was only for the sake of having one, and Hank was kind enough to give me his. And yes, we certainly had the relationship of a father and son, and occasionally called each other as such, but…” the sentence drew off.

“...Hank told me you might be confused.” Miles stated softly.. At the tilt of Connor’s head, she shuffled through the folder until she found a single sheet of paper, passing it over to him. 

It was an official copy of his name-change request form. In April of 2041, the government had deemed it necessary to legalize any and all name changes specifically for androids. This was a huge change, as not only did it give androids a proper identity, it gave them the option to have a legal family. Forms were sent to any and all registered androids via email; Connor remembered forcing Hank awake when he’d received the form (at an “ungodly fuckin’ hour” as the older man would say) to fill it out.

His form wasn’t too difficult to fill out. Current registered name, model, serial number, any existing owners (regrettably, he had been forced to write CyberLife), and proposed name change. It had been split in two, the first part focusing on the name, and the second on any family the android wished to officialize--the second was optional, while the first was required.

The first thing Connor noticed was the two slanted red “ACCEPTED” stamps over top the form.  _ Two. _ He looked at the second half of the form expectantly. It started: “FAMILY CLAIM (OPTIONAL)” Sure enough, it had been filled out. 

He noticed how different the writing was compared to what was filled out in the top half; it was easily identified as Hank’s lazy writing. Compared to the clear CyberLife font by Connor in the top half, this writing was messy and large. He read it slowly, eyebrows drawn close together.

_ Answering the following assumes that you have been taken in by another person or several people (human or android) that are considered family. This includes parental figures and siblings, but discludes partners; please fill out a marriage form for the latter. _

_ Please provide the name(s) of any and all respective individuals who have, at the time this document is filled out, been considered family:  _ **_Hank Anderson_ **

_ Status:  _ **_Parent_ **

The form went on to ask a series of questions regarding time of meeting, whether Hank had a criminal record, his employment status, and other information that Connor could only imagine had seemed pointless to the older man at the time. Yet he’d filled out every single question. He’d signed it.

A memory found its way to the front of his mind, and he focused on it.

* * *

 

“Can you print it out?”

“Print what out?”

“The Declaration of Independence,” the voice huffed sarcastically. “The  _ form _ , dumbass.”

“Why would I need to print it? I’ve already filled it out in my head, I just need to send it.”

“The hell’d you wake me up for, then? It’s fuckin’ 4 am, Connor.”

4:13 am, to be exact. Connor had received the email at 4:00 on the dot, filled it out in 1.53 seconds having had all the information prepared, and proceeded to stare at it for several minutes before opting to wake up Hank. Connor would no longer be just Connor after this.  _ Connor Anderson _ . Though the two had spoken about it often, and Hank had been all too eager to allow him the use of his surname, he found himself needing the man’s approval before he could send it.

Connor looked at the lieutenant levelly. “I need to make sure you’re okay with this. And I didn’t want to just blindly send it.”

The look he got in return was clearly fed up after being asked this for the upteenth time, but the android didn’t miss the fondness in Hank’s eyes. “Print it out.” He said lightly.

“But--”

“Just do it. If you’re gonna wake me up at this ungodly fuckin’ hour, I wanna see the damn form with my own two eyes. Never hurts to do a bit of old-fashioned handwriting.”

With a small smile, Connor sent an original copy of the form to the printer. The outdated machine whirred to life without either of their touch, and a sheet of paper rolled onto the tray. Hank went to grab it, looking at the sheet quizzically. 

Connor went to join him, but not before noticing Hank’s eyes stop at a certain part of the sheet. “What’s wrong?”

He was spared a glance before Hank said, “Didn’t realize you could register a family on the same form. Isn’t that a bit...easy?”

He looked over the older man’s shoulder, at the section he was referring to despite already knowing it was there, having already memorized the sheet in its entirety. “That section is optional. Not filling it out assumes that you just want the name change, which is easily done. The second part is more like...an application to start the process. Neither will be approved right away if you fill out the second section, as, like you said, it shouldn’t be that easy. I think they need to conduct an interview with any potential family members before approving it. Certainly not as difficult as, say, adopting, though.”

Hank contemplated this. “Well, ‘suppose it’s better that way,” he began. “Androids can make their own decisions, it shouldn’t be that hard to say they have a family.”

Nodding his agreement, Connor went to grab a pen. Hank handed him the sheet back, and watched as he quickly filled it out. He’d developed his own handwriting by that time, but opted to use CyberLife font for the sole purpose of being professional. He finished and looked back up at the lieutenant, who had seemed to be studying him.

“Is something wrong?”

Hank squinted his eyes, waiting a while before speaking. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to say this without you immediately shutting down the conversation.”

Though he had an idea of what he meant, he asked, “What do you mean?”

The older man huffed a sigh, considering his words. It was rare for him to do so. “Remember that conversation we had, when I first said you could use my name?”

Connor knew immediately, but took a second to act as though he were thinking about it. Now he  _ really _ knew where this was going. “Yes. What about it?”

The look on Hank’s face gave away that he was fully aware Connor was simply stalling. “We got in a petty argument. You were afraid people would thing you were my son, I got my back up because who the fuck cares if they thought that?” He paused, eyes holding Conor’s gaze steady. “I do consider you a son to me. Through these years, you being used like a toy by those idiots at CyberLife, waking up, experiencing emotions for the first time, taking you in, seeing you struggle…”

The android said nothing, knowing he wasn’t quite finished. 

Hank rubbed a hand over his face. His expression gave away a sort of vulnerability, a look he only seemed to show around Connor. “God help me, but I feel like I’ve watched you grow,” he said, not meeting the younger man’s eyes for the first time that night. The words caught him off guard, bringing on a feeling of warmth. “And I get it, androids  _ can’t _ grow, not physically. But mentally? Emotionally? You certainly have.”

Connor looked down at his feet. “Hank, I...I appreciate that. Truly. I’m honoured that you feel that way towards me, and just know I look up to you the same way a son would look up to a father. The feeling is mutual.”

A sigh. “But..?”

He looked back up, eyes sad. “You know exactly what I’m going to say.”

“You’re not replacing Cole, Connor.”

“Hank--”

“No, listen to me. Cole is gone. For good. You...you helped me move on from that. And because I’ve moved on, as much as possible, I can say with confidence that  _ I think of you as my son. _ ”

“I just--”

“You know how much Cole would love you, if he was here?” Hank said suddenly, shutting Connor up completely. “You know how much he’d look up to you? Respect you? Think of you as a  _ brother _ ?” They stared at each other for a while. “ _ That’s _ how I know this is the right decision. I don’t think of you as a replacement for him, kid. As a second chance. I think of you as another son.”

And that’s when Connor, looking down from the person he cared for most, found it in him to voice his insecurity, knowing full well how much it would hurt the both of them. “ _ I’m not human. _ ” He said sharply, cutting through whatever fond emotion had been settling between them, replacing it with tensity. “No matter how you feel about me...that fact will never change.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Connor crossed his arms tight over his chest. “It--it doesn’t feel right, Hank,” his voice was soft. 

“This insecurity or whatever the fuck about not being human is getting real tiring--”

“ _ Shut up _ .” Connor spat. He knew his eyes were suddenly ice cold, staring at the lieutenant.

He seemed to realize his own words, regret washing over his face. “Shit, I--”

“Go back to bed, Hank,” Connor interrupted, regretting the entire conversation. “Apologies for waking you.” He added, coolly. 

“ _ No _ .” Hank said, getting his back up, imitating Connor’s crossed-arms position. It made the android’s eye twitch. “Answer me this, Connor, and leave aside the bullshitting--what happened to the kid that almost self-destructed on my couch after a case where my fuckin’ life was in danger? What happened to you admitting you cared for me, thought of me as family?”

He only huffed stubbornly in reply, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. 

“Well?” Hank prodded, but the android was having none of it. He paused before finally choosing a different approach. “I’ll say it again. I think of you like my son, Connor. I need to know if that’s mutual, or if I’m just off my rockers.”

“It  _ is _ mutual--”

“Great, then what the fuck’s the problem? Give me the form--”

“What would Cole say about it, huh?” he snapped, his demeanor changing completely. He knew he should shut up, knew whatever his impulse drove him to say was anything but good. But he couldn’t stop himself. “How would he feel, knowing he were replaced by a  _ goddamned machine _ ?”

Hank reeled and closed his eyes, jaw clenching. If the words made him feel angry, he didn’t show it. If they made him feel sad, he didn’t show that, either. He merely winced, taking in what a now self-hating Connor had said. It made the regret worse.

“I’m going to pretend,” the man began, opening his eyes. His voice was incredibly slow and rough. “That you didn’t just say that. I am also going to consider it even, for the shit I said earlier.”

Connor could only drop his face into his hands. Hank sighed, and after a moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look up, but leaned into the touch slightly; while he appreciated the comfort, he knew he didn’t quite deserve it.

“Get some sleep,” the lieutenant was saying, knowing full well he didn’t need to sleep. “It’s clear this discussion is going nowhere. I won’t bring it up again.” Somehow, that hurt Connor all the more, despite his insistence against it. Emotions were confusing. “G’night.”

Hank walked back to his room, and Connor stood still, not moving for a few minutes. He groaned into his hands, several conflicting emotions confusing him. “Why am I like this?” He muttered helplessly. He knew a large part of him truly wanted to fill out the latter half of the form--wanted to make it official. And yet his insecurities constantly made it impossible for him to truly communicate that; he was certain, after the words exchanged just now, that any possibility had been taken off the table.

For a while, he stood statue-like in the living room, staring at the form in front of him. Just when he thought his racing mind was getting the best of him, he stole himself, marching to his room to take up the lieutenant’s advice. He fell onto the bed on his stomach, not bothering to get under the covers or move into a more optimal position before entering stand-by. 

When his internal alarm went off, signifying it was 6:30 am, he found it hard to get up. He didn’t feel tired--androids couldn’t feel tired. Was this “tired?” He searched his database. 

_ > SEARCHING FOR MATCH… _

_!! MATCH FOUND _

_ [ _ **_EMOTIONAL EXHAUSTION]_ ** _ [a chronic state of physical and emotional depletion that results from excessive job and/or personal demands and continuous stress.] _

He'd said it before, he'd say it again. Emotions were confusing.

With a mournful look to his pillows, Connor got up and made his way to the kitchen. He immediately noticed Hank in the room, giving him a bit of a shock. He was used to the lieutenant not so much as stirring until at least 7. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, looking at the ceiling as though examining its properties.

“Hank?” Connor asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism. 

The lieutenant glanced at him, taking a rather lengthy sip of his coffee before speaking. “You look surprised,” he observed. Connor said nothing, so he continued, “Jeffrey called this morning, there’s been another murder. This one’s pretty serious, he asked us to come as soon as possible.”

That was a lie. Not the case--Connor had received the information sometime through the night. But Fowler hadn’t called; Connor would have heard it. Even if it was to Hank’s cellphone, the wall between their rooms was to thin for him  _ not _ to.

“What’re you standing around for?” Connor jerked, but the words weren’t harsh. In fact, he couldn’t help but notice how soft his voice was. “Go get changed, we need to stop at the city hall and drop this off.” He fluttered a sheet of paper in the air, and Connor realized it was his name-change form.

Too bewildered at Hank’s seemingly pointless lie, he blindly followed the order.

They left as soon as he was ready, making it to the city hall in record time. Connor was skeptical. More so, when Hank insisted on going in alone. Somehow, he managed to get the android to relent, leaving him to wait twenty-six minutes and thirty-one seconds for his return. To be exact.

“...What took you so long?”

“Line-up.”

“Hank, the doors to the reception area are glass. I could see quite clearly that there wasn’t a line, and even if I couldn’t see, who the fuck else would be handing in a  _ physical _ copy--”

“ _ Language. _ ”

Connor stared at the man for a second, dumbfounded. 

He’d never been able to understand that oddity of that morning. He wouldn’t for a long time to come, even if the truth was staring him right in the eyes the entire time.

* * *

 

Hank Anderson had left everything to his only living son.

His house, his belongings, his inheritance. 

Legally, his only living son was Connor Anderson.

The android in question sat at the kitchen table--at  _ his _ kitchen table--glancing from paper to paper to Miles to paper. A million thoughts swam around his head. He wasn’t sure which to focus on.

He took a breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

When he looked up, the lawyer’s smile was sad. “That’s okay. I only came to make you aware,” she paused, beginning to gather the papers together. “When we were starting the will...the first thing he said was ‘I don’t give a shit what words you have to use to get the point across, but everything goes to Connor.’ He was very insistent. And stubborn.”

Connor smiled weakly. “I can only imagine the challenges you faced in working for him.”

A laugh. “A challenge I would willingly accept again.” She stood, and Connor didn’t miss the distant look in her eyes as she put the folder in her bag. She paused, letting out a bit of a laugh. “I admit, I was annoyed when I was first called by Hank. It was so clear he didn’t care about the law or writing the will itself, I couldn’t help but wonder why he bothered,” she looked at Connor, who let a smile tug at his lips. “But seeing how much he cared for you...he didn’t care for a will, he only wanted to make sure everything went to you. It really opened my eyes to this job, why I went through the long years of studying to ensure it. He was a good man, your father.”

Tears threatened his eyes, and Connor swallowed. With a deep breath and some rapid blinking, he forced them away, nodding. “He...he really was. Thank you, Miles.” She gave another genuine smile before turning to leave. He went to follow her to the door, but stopped in his tracks. “Wait, how can I pay you?”

The lawyer turned back once more, eyes widened a bit, then softening. “Oh, don’t worry about that, Hank made sure it would be paid for in advance.”

He paused, staring in mild surprise, before laughing a bit. “Hard to imagine him so organized. Thank you for helping him.”

* * *

 

Connor sat on the couch--on  _ his _ couch--looking through the files Miles had emailed him not long after her departure. She mentioned she would later that morning before leaving his house, along with a professional reminder to “Please, contact me if there’s anything you need.” He hoped he wouldn’t need her help anytime soon, but promised she would be the first person he’d turn to.

He was looking at the name-change form yet again, the pieces having finally fit together. He only wished he’d known sooner, wished he could have appreciated the fact that he had a legal family a long time ago.

And yet it helped him realize how unimportant a sheet of paper was. Hank was his father; that fact had been established without the asset of the law. He thought of all the times they’d argued, all the times they’d been there for each other, all the times they’d worried. He remembered the first time he accidentally called him “Dad” and the abundance of times he was called “son” in return.

He supposed he should be annoyed, perhaps a bit taken aback, that Hank went behind his back to fill out the second half of his form without Connor knowing. But he didn’t. Hank  _ knew _ Connor,  knew the android better than anyone else. He’d known that it was what his son truly wanted, even if Connor didn’t have the confidence to admit it.

It made his metaphorical heart swell with love. The tears that had been threatening him since Miles’ words earlier finally spilled, but his crying was silent, calm. He felt as though a small burden had left his shoulders, feeling the loose ends tie back together. A sense of closure.

“Miss you, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot harder to write than I originally expected, probably because the chapter went in a direction I didn't originally plan. I considered rewriting a lot of it several times, but I think I'm content with how it resolved. I think.
> 
> I apologize once again for how long this took. Really looking forward to the next chapter, so hopefully I'll get it out a bit quicker. Thank you for all your support :)


	4. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor looked back out at the view in front of him, finding a strange emotion sitting at the pit of his stomach.
> 
> The future held many things. Maybe, with time, his excitement for it might finally return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> Holy jesus, I'm so sorry for how long this took me. I finally got a couple days off of work after working ten days straight thanks to being understaffed. But things are finally starting to calm down, I'm hoping I'll be able to focus on writing a bit more.
> 
> As well, I had to go back to the first chapter and change a couple dates around. I wasn't really thinking when I first set them, so now they actually make sense lol.
> 
> Finally, a truly lighthearted chapter. As much as it can be, that is. I hope you enjoy.

Looking down at the items in his hands, Connor contemplated himself. It was rare for him to bother going to the store and getting candy, of all things. Well, candy and a bottle of thirium.

Ever since the android revolution, producers had rushed to create as many items as possible that would endear specifically to androids. The majority of it was useless; specialty blue blood products to make consumption more bearable, replaceable LEDs that glowed different colours and came in different shapes, downloadable upgrades that allowed them to change certain aspects of their appearance...the list went on. All the opposite of necessary, but Connor supposed it helped break the divide between humans and androids; both sides had things to want.

Connor was guilty as charged, holding the bottle of carbonated and flavoured blue blood in his hand. It was his favourite brand, _Bloo!!_ (“Fool your sensors!™ ,” whatever the hell that meant). It hadn’t taken him long after the release of all these products to discover his love of carbonated drinks. Of course, he could have easily tried human soda before the new products came to be, but never found a reason to.

He looked at the bottle in his hands, antsy to try it. It was a limited edition flavour for the holidays, meant to resemble eggnog. Connor was skeptical of an eggnog soda, but the perk to being an android was he could turn off the taste sensors on his tongue if he didn’t like the flavour, while still feeling the sensation of the fizz.

In his other hand were two packages of candy: gummy worms and M&Ms. He realized how awkward he must have looked, holding the rather contradictory items. Though androids were able to eat food, their sense of taste wasn’t quite the same as a human’s, and many things were found to taste differently. Android-specific food was catered towards this sense of taste, so to find an android eating human candy nowadays was quite rare.

But Connor had a reason. He’d planned this day out carefully, foreseeing the difficulty of it. He accepted that it wouldn’t be easy, but wanted to at least attempt to make it as smooth as possible.

He looked up from his hands as the person in front of him moved to a free cashier. This particular store was one of the few that actually had people working the cashiers--the majority went self-serve after the android revolution.

Hank had always made a habit of going to stores with real cashiers, and Connor supposed he’d been influenced by that. Little things came to mind, like how Hank still had a printer. Hank’s old car, that couldn’t even drive by itself. Hank had liked “old-fashioned” things, and it didn’t take long for the android to decide that he agreed. A pang came to Connor’s chest. He always liked that about Hank, always enjoyed that similarity between them.

A customer left from a cashier, leaving it free, and Connor shook himself out of his distraction. The man there waved him over; he was older (and therefore human), but certainly lively, wearing a lovely smile on his face.

The android walked over with his meager items in hand, trying to put on a friendly smile of his own. He nodded to the man as he placed the candy and drink on the table to be scanned through.

The cashier glanced from him to the items, giving them a bit of a study before turning his gaze back to Connor, who couldn’t help but feel reproachful, and tried to keep his smile in place. Was he judging his choices? Yes, the human candy and blue blood was an odd combination, but certainly not _that_ much… He calculated the man’s stare to last exactly 3.67 seconds longer than was deemed socially acceptable, before finally speaking.

“You have excellent taste,” he acknowledged with a tip of his head. “Though I can’t speak for the drink.” He winked as he gestured to the bottle.

Connor blinked. The fake smile on his face quickly turned to a small genuine one, and he found himself letting out a short laugh. “Thank you,” he said kindly. “I admittedly have yet to try that drink, specifically. So I can’t, either.”

The man nodded at that, his smile not faltering for a second. He rang in the candy, then paused before he could turn to the drink. He tapped the bags with his fingers. “Are these your favourite? I don’t often see androids bothering with them.”

With a nod of his own, Connor explained. “They were my father’s favourites. We used to get them quite often,” he noticed the other’s eyebrows raise slightly, and thought his lips may have widened even further. “I suppose they’re mine, too, now.” They may not have tasted the same to him, but they did bring comfort.

After ringing the drink through and reading off the total, he paused once again before handing Connor the paper bag, looking him straight in the eyes. “It sounds like you two had a wonderful relationship,” he said softly, letting the android take the bag as his mouth opened slightly. “Merry Christmas.”

Connor looked at the bag, closing his eyes briefly to ward back tears. He wondered how long it would take him to not feel the urge to cry so easily at every mention of Hank. When he looked back up, the older man’s expression seemed to turn to that of empathy. “Merry Christmas.” He parroted before turning to leave.

* * *

 

Despite the bittersweet conversation, Connor had left the store with a bit of a spring in his step. It was incredible, he thought, how another person’s kindness could have that effect. It didn’t take long for him to find his next destination; walking the route almost felt like muscle memory.

He sat on the backrest of a bench near a park, looking out onto water. The bottle of blue blood was open and he held it propped on his knee, the candy sitting untouched still in the paper bag. He let out a long sigh, enjoying the scene in front of him, thinking of memories long passed.

“ _Nice view, huh?_ ”

“It is,” he muttered to no one. No one physically there, that is. “It really is.”

This was where Hank had first told Connor about Cole. He’d known the question wouldn’t be received well, but the fact that he answered it at all meant a great deal to the android. _To think,_ he thought absentmindedly, _I truly thought of myself as just a machine, at the time_.

He looked down at his jeans, which happened to be the same pair from his original CyberLife uniform. How they managed to survive all these years without so much as a scuff was beyond him, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t tend to favour them as much as possible. They just fit so damn well.

The coat, specifically, was shoved into the very depths of Hank’s closet as soon as he could get his hands on it without Connor’s resistance. While he understood how wrong it was to be so obviously labeled, it was somehow a difficult task to let go of it.

It didn’t take long, however, for his own wardrobe to finally grow. He enjoyed fashion, as it turned out, enjoyed making himself look presentable while also finding ways to add personal touches. It took him a long time to discover this, took him even longer to accept that he had preferences and was able to build his style accordingly. Hank had helped him immensely.

His third Christmas was a testament to that; Hank had gifted him many articles of clothing having seen his phase, including the dark green military jacket and striped scarf he currently wore. 2040 was a very good year, he thought; the only downside being Sumo’s death. But it was a good year otherwise; Connor found himself finally moving passed his own existential crisis, and finally getting used to emotions. It was the year he realized just how important Hank was to him, and even admitted to himself that he saw the man as a father figure. It felt like the first year he could finally relax and truly appreciate life as a deviant.

December 25th, 2040 was one of Connor’s more memorable days. He had many memorable days, of course, but this one was special. It was a rather bittersweet Christmas, of course, Sumo having just passed away a month prior. Still, Hank specifically had wanted to make the most of it.

After much of the day spent watching movies, they went to a store in the early evening, the same one Connor had gone to presently. They left with a bag filled with candy and soda, all of it made for humans as android-specific food items weren’t quite as popular nor frankly _good_ at the time.

And they’d gone to that bench by the park, looking out onto the water. The same one they’d been to when Hank asked him if he was afraid to die. The same one Connor found himself now. It hadn’t changed much, over the years; only the bench had been replaced and the park upgraded. But it was still the same view, and still held the same memories.

Of course, it wasn’t rare for them to spend time there. They came often to hang out and talk, particularly during stressful days, or to spend time with Sumo on their days off. But Connor knew Hank had a reason for bringing him there that particular Christmas. Knew it before Hank had finally spoken up about it.

“ _When Cole was 4, his mother up and left us. It had been building up for a while, really, but what pissed me off most was that she left_ him _. She barely even cared when I got full custody, didn’t even try to stop it_ ,” he had began, surprising Connor. Even then, he rarely spoke about his son, nevertheless his ex-wife, and the android didn’t pry. “ _Well, she had her own issues to sort through, and looking back, it was for the best._

“ _That Christmas, when he was 5 and the first one without her there, I brought him here. I found the spot walking around aimlessly one day, while Cole was in preschool. He was always the positive type, a lot like you, but I could tell his mother leaving took a toll on him,”_ his eyes found Connor’s at this, and the android began to see where the story was going. “ _We stopped at the store, same one as we went to, stocked up on his favourite candy, something his mother would never have let me do for him, even on Christmas._

“ _Then we came here. Watched the sunset. Ate our favourite candy, drank our favourite soda, simply because I knew the kid hardly got to do it. When I asked him how he felt about her leaving, he said with this toothy grin, ‘_ As long as you’re here, it’s fine. _’ That killed me. But he was right, because we had each other. We promised to make it a Christmas tradition, getting candy and coming here, but the next year, well…_ ”

Hank had paused at this, sighing and glancing downwards. He collected himself quickly, though, and reached over to lay a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“ _As long as we’ve got each other, Connor, we’ll be good. Damn if I don’t understand how you’re feeling, but the most important thing is remembering the time you had with Sumo_ ,” Connor had tears in his eyes by that point, not because of the mention of Sumo, but the realization of Hank’s words; the meaning of him bringing the android there on Christmas. “ _And you better get out of my ratty old hoodie sometime soon. I swear you haven’t taken it off_ at all _the past few weeks. It’s weird, not being pestered about whether your shirt goes with a pair of jeans or not._ ”

Now, sitting on the bench alone, Connor thought about this and took a shaky breath.

They’d made it a tradition, after that. The android had been hesitant, always careful not to overstep boundaries when it came to Cole’s memory, but Hank had been insistent.

Presently, it had taken him a while to settle on going there. At first, he thought it might be too painful, but he knew the knowledge of not keeping true to their tradition alone would ail him. Now, sitting here with his blue blood and bag of candy, looking out onto the water as the setting sun created a vast array of reds and oranges in the sky, he thought perhaps he had made the right decision.

He took another swig from the bottle. It tasted good, he concluded, though he wasn’t sure eggnog was an accurate description of the flavour. He’d tried the festive drink on many occasions, in fact it had become a favourite of his despite it being for humans.

Connor reminisced of the abundance of times Hank had searched the fridge for eggnog, finding nothing despite having just gotten some. The android had always been the culprit, finishing a carton in record time. He chuckled softly.

Not taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he bent down to place the bottle on the seat of the bench in favour of grabbing the paper bag. He tore the plastic bags of M&Ms and gummy worms, dumping the contents into the paper one and disposing of the garbage into a can placed conveniently next to the bench.

Indulging in the sweets, Connor had to let out a shaky breath as the memory of their first Christmas on this bench seemed to play as though in real time.

* * *

 

“Alright, try this first. An absolute _classic_. M &Ms come in all kinds of questionable flavours, but you gotta try the original to start off, it’s the best. Well...the peanut ones might be a close second.”

Connor gave Hank a curious look as the older man ripped open the brown package and tilted it towards him. Inside were small, round, candy-covered and colourful chocolates. He reached in to grab one. A green one. Examining it carefully, trying to ignore the nutritional values his scans were warning him of, he rolled it between his index finger and thumb.

A sigh escaped Hank, forcing him to look away from the piece of candy. “If you say _one_ thing about the calorie--” He was stopped by Connor finally popping the M&M in his mouth.

Letting it sit on his tongue a moment, the android first identified the properties of it, before finally turning on his taste receptors. He couldn’t really taste that much. Scrunching his eyebrows together, he tilted his head and glanced at Hank expectantly.

The lieutenant, in turn, wore an expression that seemed to be somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “You don’t suck on ‘em, you chew ‘em.” He grabbed a handful of the chocolates and ate them all in one go as though to demonstrate, grunting in satisfaction.

“Mm,” the android replied in understanding. He chewed on the M&M, eyes widening a bit. Suddenly, he tasted what had to be chocolate, a creamy, sweet sensation enlightening his senses. He swallowed, turning to Hank with a pleased expression. “I think I like it.”

The other man let out a laugh, sounding somewhat relieved. “Good,” he said, and leaned towards the android to give his hair a quick ruffle. Connor, as usual, reached up to try and straighten it. “Here.” He offered the bag once more.

Connor obliged, this time following Hank’s lead in taking a handful at once. The taste was much more prominent this time, almost overwhelming his senses. He groaned at the pleasant taste, making Hank laugh again, this time clutching his stomach. “Why have I never tried this before?” Connor wondered aloud.

“Well, I think we’ve had more to worry about than candy since you went deviant,” Hank speculated. “Though I’m also not much for sweets. Every now and then and on special occasions, sure, but I’m not one to keep it around the house, so there wasn’t really any chance ‘til now.”

The android nodded over another mouthful of the chocolate. He reached a hand to grab more, only to have the bag pulled away from him. He looked at Hank with raised brows.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” the older man said with a smirk. He reached into the bag of their candy hoard, taking out a smaller paper bag. He shuffled around inside, finally holding out a wrapped piece of something colourful towards Connor. “This should be a safer flavour: neapolitan. Try it. And don’t scan it first.”

He vaguely remembered neapolitan to be a sort of ice cream flavour. Taking the candy, he ran a search. Technically, that wasn’t going against Hank’s warning; it wasn’t a scan.

> _SEARCHING FOR “NEAPOLITAN”..._

_!! MATCH FOUND_

**_[NEAPOLITAN ICE CREAM]_ ** _[Neapolitan ice cream, sometimes known as harlequin ice cream, is a flavour made up of three separate blocks of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream arranged side by side in the same container.]_

Unwrapping and eating the candy, Connor made a face. It tasted nothing like the flavour it was supposed to depict, he thought. And it was chewy. Way too chewy. It was sticking in his teeth. It felt like minutes had passed before he could swallow it. When he finally did, he gagged slightly.

He turned to Hank, who was looking at him with a curious eye, seeming to be chewing on a piece of his own. “That was terrible,” he stated simply. “What was it?”

“Yeah, it’s not one of my favourites, either. S’called salt water taffy,” he explained, rolling his eyes when Connor tried to make a grab for the bag of M&Ms. “Hold up. Uhh...let’s give these a go.”

They tried an array of chocolate bars, all of them enjoyable but not quite making it to the level of M&Ms, Connor thought. Most of them were made with caramel, peanuts, etc, and the android found he preferred the simple taste of chocolate more.

Lastly, Hank brought out a colourful bag of oddly shaped candies. “Gummy worms,” he said, shaking the bag a bit in his hand. “Never really liked these, but Cole sure did.” He ripped open the bag, tipping it towards Connor, who took one graciously.

He’d long-since stopped trying to scan or search for information on the candies. This one in particular seemed to be a no-name brand, which he was curious about, but opted to search it up later. The candy was long and squishy, and he gave a skeptical look before finally taking a bite and chewing down on it.

Connor waited. He took another bite. And another. He reached for another gummy worm, all the while holding onto his skeptical expression. Hank was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

With a glance to the older man, he finished his third gummy, trying to put to words his opinion. “I...like it,” the statement was more of a question. “I think I like it. The taste isn’t that great, yet I really want another one.” At that, he took another candy, eating it whole and contemplating some more.

Hank was staring at him as if this was the most interesting phenomenon for miles. He began to think Connor wouldn’t be able to accurately depict his thoughts, when suddenly the android looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Ah,” he said over the gummy still in his mouth, as though he’d had an epiphany. He swallowed quickly, perhaps too quickly Hank noted when the android grimaced. “I like the _texture_. The taste is okay, not something I would actively enjoy, but the gummy texture makes it almost...interesting to eat.”

Wide eyes suddenly stared back at the android, who gave the older man a confused look. Connor recognized this expression; it was the one Hank only took when thinking of Cole.

When he didn’t say anything for a moment longer than usual, Connor pried, “Hank? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” Hank replied abruptly, shaking himself out of his reverie. “Sorry, I just..,” he let out a bit of a sigh, and faced the android with a small smile. Paired with sad eyes, Connor might place this expression as bittersweet. “That’s what Cole said about ‘em. Couldn’t get enough of the things.”

Connor gave his friend a concerned smile, and turned to look at the view in front of him, leaving the other man to reminisce his past.

Not a moment later, however, he felt his hair being ruffled once more. Hank mumbled, so softly that human ears wouldn’t be able to hear, but Connor was an android. “Glad I’ve got you, kid.” For once, he didn’t bother trying to straighten out his hair, only covered a sudden lopsided smile with a hand, pretending as though he hadn’t heard the words.

They spent the remainder of the evening simply chatting about unimportant things. Connor found his spirits finally being lifted; it had been a while since Sumo’s death, but the android hadn’t handled it well, even if he tried to hide that fact from Hank. Their daily lives had gone on as usual, albeit without Sumo’s presence, and admittedly he had ignored his own feelings.

He supposed that was why this outing meant so much to him. Hank had noticed him bottling up emotions, had done something about it without prying. Had shown him that someone was there for him.

“Oh,” Hank interjected while they were both sitting silently, listening to the lapping of calm water and looking into the starry sky above. “I’ve got something else for you. A final Christmas present.” He continued, shuffling through his pockets and revealing a small package.

Connor’s eyebrows drew together. “Hank, you’ve already given me so much--”

“Don’t get your wires in a twist,” the other man interrupted, “I didn’t buy it, don’t worry about that. Just open it.” He finished speaking with a slight sheepish expression.

The android obliged, tearing the wrapping apart carefully, only to find a piece of some sort of hard-textured fabric connected to a keyring. Connor examined it a second, turning it over in his hands, before finally realizing.

“Sumo’s collar!” He exclaimed excitedly, turning to Hank in surprise, who nodded, wearing a lopsided smile. Connor turned to look at the item again, examining it. “This looks--Hank, did you make it?”

“Er, yeah,” he said, and reached into his pocket once more, revealing his set of keys, with another piece of Sumo’s collar attached. “‘Was able to make two. S’not much, but I figured we needed to do _something_ with that old lug’s collar.”

“I love it,” Connor said simply, bringing a smile to both of their faces. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries.”

“Though, if you don’t mind me saying, your sewing job is a bit lacking; the threads aren’t as secure as they should be--”

“Connor.”

“It’s just, if you let me improve on it a bit, I can make it more secure and sew the cut end so that--”

“ _Connor._ ”

“Yes..?”

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

An hour and a half later, Connor had gone through exactly twenty-two memories of his time with Hank at this park. The sun had long since set, leaving the sky to be graced by countless stars. The light pollution of being in a big city like Detroit dimmed many of them, but Connor appreciated the view nonetheless.

Shaking himself from being lost in his own memories, Connor took his keys from a pocket in his coat, rubbing his fingers across the handmade keychain he refused to replace. In the end, the android had touched up Hank’s work on both of the matching sets, making it a bit cleaner and preventing it from wearing too quickly.

Eyes becoming blurry, Connor felt fresh tears fall down his cheeks, still covered in dried stains from crying several times in the past hour. “Damn,” he muttered, wiping his sleeves across his face roughly.

He picked up the bag of candy once more, munching on a handful of both M&Ms and gummy worms (the odd combination actually tasted fairly good), and was considering heading home when he heard the barking of a dog, quickly followed by a yell.

“Aspen, no, come back! Aspen! Come here, boy! ...Aspen, _no_ \--”

Connor looked towards the sound, finding a sizeable dog barreling directly towards him. Through his surprise, he ran an accidental scan.

 **> LANCE,** ASPEN

 **> BORN: ** 05 / 18 / 2065 // **BREED:** GOLDEN RETRIEVER

 **> OWNERS: ** LANCE FAMILY

The android had a moment to decide that golden retrievers were a particularly beautiful breed before the canine all but sprung onto the seat of the bench, paws on his thighs, reaching up to lick him in the face. Connor swayed where he sat at the force, grabbing onto the backrest to prevent himself from falling backwards. The dog became distracted for a split second, moving his head to sniff at the paper bag, and Connor held it out of reach.

“Jesus, Aspen!” The same voice that had called earlier, Connor assumed it belonged to an owner, called out again. He looked towards the sound, finding a girl all but sprinting after the dog, followed by two boys. They all seemed to be in their late teens, and Connor couldn’t help but notice how alike they looked. “Oh my god,” the girl was saying, only slightly out of breath. “I’m so sorry, sir! Aspen, _down--_ ”

“Dammit, Emmy, I _told_ you he should’ve been kept on a leash!” One of the boys spoke.

The girl, Emmy, bristled at this, turning toward the other. “He was just fine right until then! If only you hadn’t--”

The two continued arguing, while the other boy walked towards Connor with an exasperated expression. “Er, sir, would you like some help? I’m really sorry about this--”

Connor, who had finally found his balance on the bench, took in the scene around him and laughed. A boastful, outgoing sort of laugh, similar to ones Hank would commonly show while watching a cheesy comedy show. It made the other two halt their arguing, turning to face him. “That’s alright,” he finally said, turning back to the dog. “Do you mind if I pet him?”

A pause, before finally the boy who had offered aid said, “Please, go ahead!”

Wasting no time, Connor placed his bag of candy at his feet, reaching both hands to Aspen’s head, scratching him everywhere. He received another appreciative lick in reply, and scrunched his face at the slobber. “You’re such a happy dog, aren’t you, Aspen?” Connor said in a high-pitched voice.

“He loves people,” Emmy explained. “Sometimes I think he likes people even more than he likes other dogs…”

Connor chuckled at that, looking back at the three teenagers as he continued to smother the golden with love. “I’m assuming you’re his owners?”

“Yes,” Emmy responded. “We’re all siblings.”

“We’re triplets!” The boy who’d gotten into the argument with Emmy responded.

“Stop saying it like it’s so important, Jamie.”

And just like that, Emmy and the boy, Jamie, began to argue again.

The other boy cleared his throat, turning towards Connor. “Don’t mind them, they argue a lot. I’m Leo,” he introduced. “That’s Emily--” he pointed to the girl, “--and that’s James. They’re great when they aren’t at each other's throats.”

The android smiled. “Nice to meet you. My name is Connor.”

Leo stared at him a moment long enough for Connor to assume he was being examined, until the boy’s eyes suddenly brightened in surprise. “Hold on, I knew I recognized you! You’re Connor, the RK800 android! The guy who led that huge army of androids during the revolution!”

The exclamation roused Emily and James from their argument. “Connor? _The_ Connor?!”

Connor’s expression quickly became sheepish. “Uh, yes, that would be me. How did you know?”

“School, of course! Actually, we did a unit about the revolution not too long ago in social studies, and finally got to watch a recording of news broadcasting the day the revolution happened. _That’s_ why you looked familiar…” Emily explained.

The teenagers continued to praise the android, leaving Connor to attempt to calm them and explain that he really didn’t require praise. It had been a long while since people had consistently treated him as some sort of idol, and he found that he had to remind himself of the beginning of his true life in the first place. Deviancy, the revolution, finally breaking passed those red walls...had none of that happened, had one little thing gone wrong, and he wouldn’t be sitting here. He wouldn’t have had Hank.

Connor had never felt a personal connection to rA9, but in that moment, he found himself thanking the being, real or not.

When at last he managed to calm the three teenagers, they finally deflated from their excitement, speaking to him once more as though he were any other person who was recently attacked by their dog.

“Do you have a dog, Connor?” James was asking as Emily threw a ball for Aspen, who had since stopped pestering the android.

“I used to, though he was my father’s dog. He passed away a long while ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that...what was his name?”

“Sumo,” Connor said fondly. “A huge St. Bernard. I must admit, I miss having a dog around the house.”

Connor didn’t miss Leo suddenly perk up at the statement. He tapped Emily on the shoulder, muttering something in her ear. She quickly perked up as well.

“What’s going on?” James asked, clearly the slow one to catch on when Emily turned a stink eye towards him. He finally understood, however, letting out a loud, “Ohhh! That would be perfect!”

Leo turned to Connor, who was staring at them blankly. “Mr. Connor, our other dog, Lila, recently had puppies. We managed to sell most of them, but there’s still one in need of a home; for some reason we haven’t been able to find anyone to take him. We think it’s because he’s the runt of the pack, but he’s a great puppy…”

“Would you be willing to take him in?” James finished simply, not beating around the bush.

“Oh,” the android replied intelligently, trying to push aside the increasing want he felt in his gut. “I don’t know--”

“Please, Mr. Connor,” Emily continued, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. His eyebrows raised at this, but he wasn’t so easily fooled. “We considered keeping him, but we just don’t have the resources…”

Connor sighed, pushing away the unrealistic desperation to just agree. “As much as I’d love a dog, my lifestyle simply wouldn’t permit it. I’m a lieutenant at the DPD; I’d be able to get a week off at most, and a puppy requires 4 months to be trained at _minimum_. Even then, I wouldn’t be around nearly as often as I should.”

Leo seemed to physically deflate at this, which sent a small pang of regret through Connor. As much as he would like a dog, it simply wasn’t an option for him.

“What if we were able to help?” Emily suddenly asked, still looking hopeful. With everyone looking at her curiously, she continued, “We were planning to keep him another year or so before we’d have to give him up to a shelter, anyway. It might be better to talk about this with our parents, but you could take a week off to get him used to your house, and when you’re working, we could look after him during the day.”

The three of them stared at him expectantly, and Connor felt a bit of hope well within himself. He tried to push it down, tried to tell himself how bad of an idea it all was, but it refused to go away. “I don’t know…” He said again.

“Think about it!” Leo insisted. “We can give you our home number, and you can set up a time to speak with our parents about it. We’ll be home over the holidays, so we’re free whenever, really.”

With a lot of hesitance, Connor agreed, and it was worth it just to see the huge smiles appear on all of their faces. He received their number, and not long after said their goodbyes. Immediately, Connor felt himself planning for life with a dog, and had to push away the thoughts, not wanting to get his hopes up.

Watching the three teenagers walk away, he overheard James speak again. "Can you imagine, the  _deviant hunter_ adopting one of our puppies--"

"Jamie, _Jesus_ , he's not the deviant hunter anymore! He probably hates being called that!" Emily said roughly.

"I know, I know, but still--" Connor chuckled at the arguing siblings.

He looked back out to the view in front of him, finding a strange emotion sitting in the pit of his stomach. It took him awhile, but he finally placed the emotion.

Bittersweet. He felt bittersweet. The pain of recent loss still dwelled as fresh as fruit in his heart, but with it appeared something good, something lighter.

The future held many things. Maybe, with time, his excitement for it might finally return.

* * *

 

Connor’s willpower was quickly proven to be lower than he’d expected.

A sigh escaped his lips as he examined his current situation. He stood in the kitchen, having just set up a place for bowls of water and food for a dog, the same place they had been for Sumo. Arms crossed against his chest, the android looked towards the living room, watching a puppy golden retriever sniffing the area as though it were a mission.

Leo was right; he was a good puppy. Connor saw that the moment he laid his eyes on the golden, having decided to pay them a visit. _Out of curiosity_ , he had reassured himself, but those brown eyes looked at him for a whole two seconds before he was a goner. He was rather calm for being so young, opting to stay near his mother, but showing no anxiety when he met Connor.

Amy and Joseph, the triplets’ parents, had been incredibly welcoming. It turned out Amy was pregnant, the main reason they wouldn’t be able to keep the runt of the litter; she was expected to deliver September, and by that time they would need to focus on caring for the baby. That, however, gave the perfect amount of time to help Connor train the puppy while he had to work.

In the end, he couldn’t help but agree. The thought that this chance was too good to let up festered in his mind, and that along with the puppy shadowing him as soon as they met prevented him from giving it a second thought.

So he found himself back at home, watching the small golden retriever explore the new area, wondering how the hell a puppy had managed to tie him around his little paws in such a short period of time.

He dropped to the kitchen floor, sitting cross-legged, tapping his nails to get the puppy’s attention. It worked, and the dog quickly barreled towards him. Patiently, Connor made him sit, and rewarded the effort with pets. When he drew his hand away, the puppy whined, staring at him hopefully with big eyes.

“RA9 help me. You're too cute. I can’t handle this.” The dog quirked his head at his voice. His tail wagged. Connor dropped his face into his hands, groaning. This seemed to concern the dog, as he got up to come closer and sniff the android curiously, before seeming to try to move his hands away with his nose. Connor relented, the action reminding him of Sumo.

The puppy took this as an invitation to climb onto Connor’s lap, sniffing him some more before lying down, fitting himself perfectly atop the android’s legs. He pet the retriever slowly, finding a million emotions swimming within him.

His eyes met the cupboard in the living room, the one that stored Hank’s revolver. Feeling regret, he took a shaky breath, focusing his attention to the dog in his lap. “Perhaps I should get rid of it,” he pondered, and curled himself around the golden retriever in an embrace. “Especially now that I have you to take care of. Maybe that’s another reason I wanted to take you in so badly…”

The puppy let out a small huff in response.

Connor sighed again, looking at his new companion fondly, wondering what memories this new development unlocked for his future. “You need a name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading, and for all your support thus far. If you have an idea for the pup's name, please leave a comment! I can't seem to come up with anything meaningful, so I'd love some ideas.
> 
> Fun fact, the first scene at the store with the cashier was taken from real life. I was feeling down and decided to go buy candy, and had a similar experience, so I took inspiration from that. It's the small things that really stick with you, and kindness goes a long way.


	5. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'd like me to try?"
> 
> "Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind."
> 
> It had been a while since Connor had led an interrogation. Though he felt a familiar excitement in his chest, he didn't miss the uncertainty and grief mixed in. "Certainly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor finds the power of friendship.
> 
> Thank you so much to Shootmethroughmyhead (is it possible to link users? I'm a newb here) for the puppy's name idea. Denuo is such a nice name, and I love the meaning.

Trying to look confident, Lt. Connor Anderson arrived at the precinct at 7:57 am. He had aimed for the ‘early but not too early’ approach, hoping it would ward off anyone wanting to strike up a conversation while still showing his usual punctual nature. In other words, he didn’t want to be bothered or given a second glance.

It was his first true day back on the job since Hank’s death, January 1st, 2071. Between being persuaded to take personal days, use up two weeks of vacation time, and given a week to do paperwork from home on the excuse that they weren’t busy enough, Connor had all but begged the captain to allow him to work again.

“Connor, you still have two weeks vacation time to use up. Not  _ once _ have I or Fowler seen you take time for yourself, unless Hank gave you a reason. Why not give yourself time to relax? To get yourself sorted? I’m not asking you to go to fucking Hawaii. Didn’t you just get a dog? Spend some time with him.”

“Captain, I assure you, I’m in top condition to work--”

“You’re  _ always _ saying that.”

“--I’ve been gone almost a month now, and paperwork is getting on my nerves, If I may say so. Please, I just want to be back on my normal schedule.”

After a minute of silence and a lot of sighing from the other end of the phone, the captain had finally relented.

And now Connor was here, trying to ignore the stares his coworkers gave him, trying to pretend like it was any other day, hoping he’d make it to his desk before anyone tried to talk to him, particularly a certain android. He was almost there, a couple meters from the desk that had not once changed, free from the fear of--

“Connor!”  _ Dammit. _ “My office.”

Connor visibly winced, destroying his composure, and hurried to the captain’s office while trying to lift his sagged shoulders. He could see fellow officers paying their highly respected lieutenant several glances, and tried to ignore them.

He entered the office swiftly, taking his time to close the door behind him. Hesitantly, he turned to face the captain. He sat at his desk with his elbows on the surface, chin resting on intertwined fingers. The stare he gave him might have been enough to burn holes into Connor’s head.

“Captain,” the android acknowledged, tilting his head in greeting, moving to stand in front of the desk.

“Connor,” the warning was notable in the other man’s voice. “What is it with the ‘captain’ bullshit?  _ Chris Miller, _ remember? Worked together for what, thirty years, now?”

He raised his eyebrows at the outburst, and had to refrain from correcting that they’d been in fact working together for thirty- _ two _ years, now. And a couple months. After Jeffrey was forced to retire from an accident on the job, leaving him with half a year recovery time at minimum, Chris, the lieutenant at the time, was given the promotion to captain, while Connor took his old position. This had been fifteen years ago, and the android could tell the captain was eager to retire; could have done so ten years ago.

“Never thought I’d have the issue of an officer being  _ too _ formal, rather than the other way around,” Chris leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. The more relaxed position in turn drew out some of the tension in Connor. “Finally understand why Hank always thought you had a stick up your ass.”

Connor didn’t miss the teasing lilt to his captain’s words. Any remaining tension left him instantly, and a side of his mouth quirked upwards. “Well, Chris, with Hank gone and my not having a concrete partner, you were the only valid successor able to deal with my, to borrow Hank’s phrase, ‘pestering ass.’ There was no helping it.”

The other man let out a large laugh, and sighed. “Missed having you around here, Connor,” he said genuinely. It caught the android slightly off guard. “And I’d be lying if I said we didn’t need you. Alex and Lee are swarmed, Richard’s worrying me with the amount he’s taking on, and Josh is starting his vacation today. Thank god you’re here.”

“Why didn’t you call me in sooner, Chris?” Connor couldn’t help but feel lightly offended.

He received a dubious look. “You know perfectly well that I would have if it were necessary. Really, it’s only been blowing up in the past week, so you returned at the perfect time… Happy fuckin’ holidays.”

Connor nodded, deciding that was the most satisfactory answer he would get. “Am I still working solo, for the time being?” Since Hank had retired twenty-one years ago, he’d gone through countless partners. It wasn’t that they were bad, or even that they didn’t get along well, it was simply a case of poorly timed events. Between this and the fact that Connor was able to handle most cases on his own left him partnerless half of the time. He couldn’t say he particularly minded this fact.

“I believe that would be best,” Chris said, and cocked his head to the side as if he had more to say on the matter. “I’ll have you focusing on working with Richard and taking on Josh’s cases. You two seem to be at your best when you’re working together.”

“Understood,” he acknowledged, and while that seemed to be the end of their conversation, he still got the sense that the captain had more to say. “May I take my leave..?”

Chris nodded, and Connor turned towards the door, but was stopped before he could grab the handle. “Just keep in mind, Connor… You’ve been given countless opportunities for promotions. Amazing promotions. Hell, you were offered a position at the fuckin’  _ FBI _ and you turned it down. Hell, you almost didn’t accept becoming lieutenant,” Chris sighed his exasperation. Connor didn’t like where this conversation was going. “You know as well as I do that I’ve reached my limits, and you’re the next in line for becoming captain.”

“I don’t know, Chris, Josh is perfectly qualified--”

“Look, I get it. After Hank retired, you wanted things to change as little as possible. You struggled for a while, there, but hung on. And I’m willing to bet that you’re striving to keep things as similar as possible even more, now that he’s gone. Am I wrong?” 

Connor flinched at this. He was perfectly right.

“Look, just...think about it. Change is inevitable, Connor. If anything, I think you need some of it more than ever, right now.”

Not looking at Chris, the android simply nodded, moving to make his exit. He could clearly here a sigh from behind him as the door closed.

He was right, and Connor knew it. He had latched onto familiarity long ago, and never handled change well. It had never hindered him, but always dwelled. Sumo’s death, Hank’s retirement, his promotion to lieutenant, and now, Hank’s death. Festering. At one point, he might have been able to pretend that things were the same. But now, that was impossible. He needed to face that.

But damn if he didn’t want to.

Rubbing his hands together and walking to his desk with these thoughts weighing him down, Connor failed to notice the android sitting on his chair, legs propped on the desk. Had he seen him sooner, he would have made a beeline for the break room to get an unnecessary coffee and buy time, hoping the man would give up.

But, standing a mere few feet from his chair, he was trapped, and he was sure the android knew it, despite having his eyes closed.

The RK900 model opened one eye to glance at him, before promptly closing it once more and settling deeply into the chair. He acted no different than usual, giving off an air as if he owned the place, yet there was a clear edge of hostility in his body language. “Connor.” He greeted shortly.

The inferior model stood awkwardly, trying to understand the anger clear in the other android’s behaviour. He cleared his throat. “Hello, Richard. You appear to be in my desk.”

This forced his eyes open immediately; Connor rarely called the RK900 ‘Richard,’ only his nickname, ‘Nines.’ The nickname had been what RK900 was first known as, before he became deviant and was able to choose a name for himself. Though Connor’s persistence calling him Nines had been annoying at first, it became natural, and in turn, Nines called the RK800 simply ‘Eight’ to spite him.

“An incredible observation,” the other android drawled sarcastically, staring at him with a deadpan look. Connor was always surprised at just how intimidating he could be. “What of it?”

“I would like to know why you are in my desk.”

“Because I am.”

“...I see. Could I please have it back?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, Connor rocking back on his heels, Nines staying as still as a statue.

When Nines had been found in the very depths of CyberLife tower’s storage, a single model locked away separately from any other, Connor had been skeptical. His own model’s successor, designed to surpass every small limitation he’d had, catered around RK800’s failures. If Connor was designed to inevitably become a deviant, as Amanda claimed, RK900 was made for the exact opposite. 

But when he finally agreed to Markus’ proposal to give the new prototype a chance and wake him up, it had seemed all of the potentially fatal protocols had yet to be uploaded to the RK900 in full. It still took them a long while before he woke up, became deviant, but until that point he’d been able to work comfortably with Connor at the DPD. 

Despite the supposed superior programming, Connor still had his perks over the RK900. He was better at interrogating and negotiating, his softer features working in his favour to give suspects a sense of trust. Nines, on the other hand, was simply intimidating in his looks and lacked the same software to wager the best approach in questioning. Connor was faster, more lithe, good at chasing, while Nines had the upper hand in brute force. 

The intimidating factor of the other android was working against Connor in this situation. He huffed a sigh, giving in to the other’s piercing stare. “I get the feeling you’d like an apology, but I’m unsure of what for.” He noted simply.

Nines scoffed, and Connor couldn’t help but compare the action to Gavin, who’d been his partner before the human retired. Many of Nines' habits could be contributed to the arse of a man, similarly with Connor and Hank. “Is that so? Not a single idea?”

He just stared blankly.

Though Nines’ tone was neutral, the older android could sense the frustration behind his words plain as day as he recites, “December 7th, at 8:00am, message from RK800: ‘Hank passed away this morning.’ I replied immediately, only to receive nothing in response. The following messages are all from me, nothing from you,” Connor checked his messages internally while this was said, finding it to be true. He realized he’d turned his notifications off that morning, not wanting to talk to anyone, and hadn’t bothered to turn it back on. Didn’t even care to check his messages at all.

Nines continued. “I tried to call, five times on the 7th, and then a few more every day for a week following. No response. I went over to your house a few times, but you were either out or ignored me.”

He must have been out, and wanted to say so, wanted to explain that he’d been an idiot and accidentally left his notifications turned off. The truth, however, was that he hadn’t bothered thinking about the fact he hadn’t spoken to Nines at all since Hank’s death. Hadn’t wondered how he might be worrying. He felt a pang of guilt, at that. “Nines, I--”

“I found out about Hank’s funeral from  _ Gavin _ . Nothing from you, no personal invite. You’ve been dead silent for twenty-four days after experiencing a traumatic event,” Nines stood up as he said this, looking down at Connor from his taller height. Anyone else might not sense it, but Connor could see his composure finally break a bit. It was with the way he stood so stiffly, with his eyebrows furrowed just a bit too much, with the slight crack in his voice when he said, “You couldn’t have just called?”

The shorter android realized the other’s worry for him, and the guilt only grew stronger. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again, looking down at his feet. It became apparent that he was still so emotionally vulnerable, and he hated it.

They stood like that for a moment, Connor looking at his feet, the other staring down at him, before Nines sighed, seeming to realize he wouldn’t get another word out of the older android. He marched past Connor, letting their shoulders hit as he made his way back to his own desk.

Connor realized that he’d been avoiding Nines, and Nines specifically, because he also felt like family. He thought a part of him didn’t want to admit that he still had someone to call as such; he wanted to simply dwell in the thought that he was alone, in the negativity that was so easy to embrace. 

It was so easy to feel the weight of Hank’s death and think  _ that’s it, I have no one, now _ , that he ignored the one person he would call a brother. It was so easy to isolate himself. So easy to ignore a person who worried for him maybe as much as Hank had.

* * *

 

A week passed, and it was clear Nines was giving Connor the silent treatment. They only spoke when absolutely necessary, not letting their personal conflict get in the way of their work. 

Though the tensity was stifling and Connor was striving to find a way to make the situation right, he had made the correct decision in coming back to work. Though he missed his puppy, Denuo, immensely during the day, finally settling back into a semi-normal routine was comforting. While he tried not to ignore the captain’s advice on change being necessary, he couldn’t help but find comfort in doing the thing he was best at.

He was sitting at his desk, finishing off some reports before clocking out for the day--he had a couple days off after this, and was eager to spend them with Denuo--when he heard a bit of a commotion coming from across the room. 

Connor looked up from his terminal, towards the interrogation rooms, where the door had been slammed loudly enough to catch the attention of every officer in the precinct. Connor quickly recognized Alex stomping from the room, looking furious, followed quickly by an incredibly composed Lee.

“No way!” Alex, a human detective, was saying, and Connor noticed the attention of other officers diminishing quickly. Her rash personality was no surprise to any of those who worked more than a week with her, and people had grown accustomed to it quickly. “We can handle this ourselves, Lee! That little shit is just stubborn.” Still, Connor wished her voice wasn’t a natural megaphone half the time.

Lee, who was fairly new to the precinct sitting at about 6 months, was an android officer and Alex’s partner. She reached out to grab the fuming detective’s shoulder, saying something quiet enough that only Alex would hear it, and Connor saw tensity leave her shoulders. They had gotten along incredibly quickly after their partnership was established, and everyone at the office were secretly betting on whether the two were more than just partners or friends.

Though Connor avoided commenting on another’s personal affairs, and would never admit this fact out loud, but he strongly sided with the opinion that the two were together romantically. He couldn't help but be reminded of Nines and Gavin's partnership by the girls. Though they had never said it outright, their 'secret' relationship was as plain as day, and Connor was surprised to this day that Fowler had never stepped in.

He was about to turn back to his work when Alex’s eyes flicked to him, staring daggers. He flinched a bit, looking towards his terminal as if he hadn’t been phased, but didn’t miss the fact that she began marching towards him.

Shit.

She reached his desk, and Connor was forced to face her when her hands slammed on the table. She leaned in, an inch away from his face despite his best efforts to back away, finding a whole new meaning to personal boundaries. 

“Don’t you dare fuck it up.” Alex said simply, and was gone as soon as she came.

The lieutenant was left frazzled, not bothering to try to compose himself when Lee walked up to him with an apologetic look. “Lieutenant Connor, I’m terribly sorry about that. She’s been incredibly stressed as of late, I hope you can understand--”

“No need to apologize, Lee,” Connor said, brushing a hand through his hair awkwardly. “I do understand. Now...what am I not supposed to fuck up?”

The android laughed lightly, but quickly pulled herself into a more serious demeanor. “I believe you were notified of a case earlier today, lieutenant, about a man found dead early this morning, having fallen from his own apartment on the 20th floor. He was said to have been pushed out by a teenage girl, his daughter.”

Connor remembered reading it that morning. It had interested him immediately, but at the same time, a part of him was relieved when Alex and Lee had took it before he had the chance; he was afraid his emotions might have gotten in the way. “Yes, I was. You two took the case, didn’t you?”

“We did. The issue is, um, we were trying to interrogate the girl, but she won’t speak. Both Alex and I tried. Her mother was there at the time, she’s the one who claims the kid killed him. She says it’s because she’s mentally ill,” Lee explained. Connor’s eyebrow quirked, curiosity piqued. “But we need her to say something, anything that can move the investigation forward.”

“You’d like me to try?”

“Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

It had been a while since Connor led an interrogation. Though he felt a familiar excitement spread through his chest, he didn’t miss the uncertainty and grief mixed in. He surprised himself, then, when he said without hesitation, “Certainly.”

* * *

 

One glance at the kid had Connor skeptical. “I thought you said the suspect was a girl?”

He stood in the viewing room, looking into the other room, where the young suspect sat at the metal table. Lee was at his side, and Alex had showed up at one point, only to drag a chair to the back corner and watch. 

“That’s what her records say,” the other android said, handing him a tablet.

Connor took in the information. 

**Name:** Josie Abrams

**DOB:** 05/23/2053 (16 yrs old)

**Sex:** Female

**Criminal Record:** None

The suspect had all but curled into a ball on the chair, making it difficult to wager appearance, but the short haircut and masculine clothing had Connor assuming this was a teenage boy, not a girl. He shrugged it off, thinking he had just judged wrongly.

Still...something seemed off. “Where’s the mother?”

“In another interrogation room,” Lee said.

“Thinks she’s mentally ill, the mom,” Alex chimed in suddenly “According to her, that’s why she won’t talk to us.”

That’s what seemed off to Connor. The records described the teen as being nothing more or less of a typical high school student. No bad grades, good work ethic, not even record of a teacher calling home to raise concerns. 

Looking back at the ‘suspect,’ the android noted the shaking hands, wide eyes, flushed face. “...Just in shock…” he muttered to himself.

“Pardon, lieutenant?” Lee asked.

“Nothing. I’ll start the interrogation in just a moment, give me a minute to grab something.”

Rushing out of the room before either officer could question him, Connor made haste back to his desk, raising some heads in his hurry. He opened a drawer, quickly finding the item he’d come for, closing it with little grace before turning on his heels.

He returned to the interrogation rooms quickly, stopping before the door to compose himself. Stealing a glance at the bag he’d fetched from the desk in his hands, he contemplated his actions. Teenagers liked M&Ms, right? Maybe he should have thought about that before going all the way to get them. 

Halting his worries, Connor forced himself to stand a bit straighter. Sweets were proven to reduce stress, when consumed in proper amounts. Even if the kid didn’t like them, the likeliness of the gesture increasing trust levels was a whole 89%.

Clearing his throat, he placed a hand on the scanner, synthetic skin peeling away to reveal white plastic so he would be recognized. The door slid open, and he entered slowly, careful to keep an air of casualty. 

The teen’s wide eyes flickered towards him for a moment, and Connor could almost see a million emotions in them, the most prominent one being fear. They quickly looked away, back at the metal table in front. He made his way to the seat on the opposite side, relaxing into it but not yet revealing the candy he held.

Instead, he opted to scan the suspect, searching for any clues that might help him to make conversation.

The first thing his scanners found interest in was a black undergarment the teen wore. He focused on it, and the information that bounced back made his eyebrows shoot upwards. So he hadn’t been exactly wrong, earlier.

The second, and more concerning, were the bruises. Some were older, others fresh, all in places that could be easily hidden. Hidden, at least, from humans and the common android, of which Connor was neither. 

The third confirmed his skepticism altogether; self harm scars. He wouldn’t have seen them at all, if the kid hadn’t suddenly moved, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of their head.

With that, the android closed his eyes a moment, wincing.

He took a deep but quiet breath, and reached out to place the bag of M&Ms in the center of the table between them. He got a little jump of surprise in return, despite his efforts of being gentle. Softly, he said, “Please, help yourself. I’m Lieutenant Connor Anderson,” the formality still felt foreign on his tongue, but it hadn’t taken Connor long to decide he wanted to make full use of the name. He’d get there. “I’d like to ask you some questions regarding the incident of your father’s death, if that’s alright.”

Finally, the kid’s wide eyes met his. The mixture of emotions turned to apprehension as the gaze flicked from him to the candy and back again. 

As if to demonstrate that it was in fact safe to eat, Connor reached a hand into the already open bag, grabbing a handful of the candies before stuffing his face. The teenager didn’t try to follow suit. He hadn’t expected them to, anyway.

Prompts filled his vision, possible questions and conversation starters. He easily decided to start with something on the safe side of things. “Your name is Josie, right?”

Wrong question. The eyes that finally met his drifted away, looking down at the bag of M&Ms. Connor thought the expression he saw might be something like conflicted.  _ Interesting _ . 

The reaction urged him to dive into the question he’d been itching to ask since he saw the black undergarment. “I’m an advanced android, made for investigative work, meaning I can scan my surroundings. My scanners indicated that you are wearing what is commonly known as a chest binder, made for the comfort of transgender masculine individuals. Is that correct?”

A moment passed, and Connor was worried he’d overstepped himself. To his relief, the teen looked at him once more, eyebrows drawn together as though unsure how to go about handling the situation, and nodded.

“Is there another name you would prefer to be called, than the one in your records?”

The teen contemplated, seeming to search his eyes. Connor idly reached for a few more M&Ms, and noticed the other’s stress levels reduce slightly. “...Jade. If...if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Jade. Are he/him pronouns sufficient?” He could practically hear Alex questioning his judgement from the other room, wondering why in the hell he would be so kind to a suspect.

The wide-eyed look of relief he got made it worth it, followed by an eager nod. This kid wasn’t a killer.

“Are you aware of your mother’s claiming that you’re mentally ill?”

Jade nodded again, looking away once more. A pained expression flowed over his face.

“And as a result, killed your father?”

Another nod, more hesitant.

“Is there anything you’d like to say about that?” Connor already had an idea of why he was being so quiet. Still, he needed proof. He needed to be sure, to have evidence to fall back on.

A long pause, and to the sadness of Connor, he shook his head slowly.

“I’m having a hard time believing a bright kid like you would commit murder, Jade,” he said softly. He leaned back in his chair, but not before grabbing another handful of chocolate. “An even harder time, when my scanners show bruises on your arms and neck from physical abuse.”

The boy looked up at him with surprise, but he quickly bit his trembling lower lip, looking back down. It was easy to assume that the father was the abusive one, and Jade in turn had finally had enough. But something about that story didn’t quite fit, especially when his mother hadn’t mentioned abuse at all.

“Were you close with your father?” For some reason, the question was hard to ask, and the android had to try to compose himself, popping an M&M into his mouth for a distraction. He found the candy helped him focus; it was the reason he'd brought it to work in the first place.

Jade let out a bit of a sob, muffling it with his fist, but didn’t answer.

Okay, Connor would have to try a different way. “My father passed away only a month ago. Your pain is not lost on me.” Once more, he could practically feel the criticism coming from the detective a room over.

There was still no response, but the android saw tears form in Jade's eyes as he looked at Connor expectantly. His stress levels also raised slightly, just enough to urge him to speak.

Connor leaned in, elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of him. “You don’t have to keep anything from me, Jade. I want to be on your side,” he said, and then added, softly enough so only the boy would hear, “would your father want you to stay quiet? To keep it in? I know mine wouldn’t.”

Jade’s face broke.  _ There _ . “He--he did everything for me! He was there when mom wasn’t, he was the one recognizing my good grades and praising me, the one who accepted me as trans when she wouldn’t. I love him more than anything, I would never..,” he sobbed desperately. “I didn’t kill him! I’m sorry...I’m sorry, mom…”

“Why do you feel the need to apologize to her?”

His eyes searched Connor’s as though looking for a reason not to trust him. He didn’t seem to find anything, and continued, “She...she would beat me. Not just for being trans, for not being...not good enough. My dad couldn’t do anything, she would threaten to kill herself..,” Jade bit his lip again, as though contemplating whether or not to continue. “Last night, she got really bad. She wanted to beat me again, but dad stopped her, and she went to the apartment window, stood on the ledge…

“She kept accusing him of choosing me over her. When she...when she fell backwards, he tried t-to pull her back,” his sobbing became near hysterical. “But he...h-he fell in her...in her p-place! Oh my God,  _ dad _ ..,” the explanation sent the kid spiralling into tears, and Connor was about to interrupt, but he seemed to want to continue. “S-sorry, um… Mom made me--she made me promise not to say it. She s-said it was my fault, and sh-she’s right, lieutenant, i-if I had just--”

“Jade, it’s okay--”

“--if I had just  _ let _ her beat me--”

“Jade, stop.” There words weren’t as professional as they should have been, Connor realized, when his voice cracked. Somehow, he saw himself in the kid in front of him, in the hurt, in the self-blaming.  _ If I had just urged Hank into more treatment…  _

He complied, wiping at his face before looking up at Connor nervously.

“Your mother has committed two crimes: physical abuse and lying to cops, both of which are punishable by law. You have done nothing wrong. As soon as I leave this room, I’m going to talk to her, get her to admit. You can trust me. Does that sound alright?”

The look of uncertainty on Jade’s face sent a pang through Connor. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Do you have another family member you trust? Anyone you can stay with?”

He nodded. “My grandfather.”

“Alright, I’ll have another officer come in to let you call him. Or, if you’d prefer, they can call for you. Until then,” Connor pushed the bag of M&Ms a bit further towards Jade. “Eat a bit. It might help calm you down, even if just a little.”

Tentatively, Jade complied, taking a single candy and chewing it slowly. His face crumpled at once, but he continued to eat over tears, trying to muffle his sobs. “Thank you,” he said, and the words seemed to hold more meaning than Connor could comprehend. “Thank you for everything.”

* * *

 

Another week passed. Connor had interrogated Jade’s mother, Loren, though not with the same decency as he had with the original suspect. It hadn’t lasted long.

“Loren, upon scanning your son--”

“ _ Daughter. _ ”

“I would ask you to not interrupt me, as the evidence on your side is strongly lacking, and it will only hurt you further,” Connor had warned with no little grace. “As I was saying, my scans found an abundance of bruises and cuts over his body.”

“ _ Her. Her  _ body,” The woman hissed, venom in the words. “What of it?”

“Your husband has recently faced a horrible death, I’m telling you about bruises found around the  _ entirety _ of your child’s body, and yet you’re more concerned with how I’m referring to him?” Connor knew his professionalism was lacking with this, but didn’t quite care. He felt disgusted with the woman in front of him, hurt at how Jade had been treated, hurt that the best people were so easily stolen from the world.

“She fucking killed him! She took Jamie away from me! Why the fuck are you questioning  _ me _ ?! She’s the mentally ill one, she needs to be in a fucking  _ psyche ward _ \--”

Connor stood, slamming his hands on the table. It was in part to intimidate her, but he would be lying if he didn’t need to release some steam to prevent himself from saying something that would quickly force Alex or Lee to kick him out. “You know what I think?” He half asked, half yelled as he leaned in towards the woman. “I think you were about to beat Jade last night, but before you could, your husband stopped you--”

A look of shock crossed her face, forcing him to pause. “H-how...how did you know..?” His eyebrow quirked, and he glanced at the mirrored window, knowing Alex and Lee had heard the words. They would count as evidence. Oblivious to this, Loren’s face became vile, and she spat, “ _ She _ told you, didn’t she? That little brat, that fucking--”

“--he stopped you, but you didn’t quite like that, did you?!” His voice was loud enough to overtake hers, and she glared daggers at him. “You didn’t like the fact that your beloved husband was protecting  _ him _ , instead of siding with you. So, in an attempt to win back his attention, his spotlight, you threatened to kill yourself by jumping from the balcony.”

The glare softened, and Connor had a feeling she’d fess up for real soon.

“You almost fucking did it, too, didn’t you? So Jamie tried to pull you back up, tried to save your life for whatever goddamn reason, and as a reward for his efforts, he’s the one that went falling,” he knew he was on thin ice now; his emotions were beginning to get the best of him. And yet, the quiver he saw in the woman’s lower lip urged him on. “Admit it!” He yelled at her, making her flinch. He leaned in further, inches from her face, making her back away.  “Say you lied to us, say you were beating your child! Is it  _ that _ hard to say?”

“Okay! I admit it, you’re right!” She’d finally confessed, practically sobbing the words by now.

Just thinking about the interrogation had Connor fuming. He’d rushed out of the room when it was over, not bothering to check in with the other officers in the next room, knowing they would be able to handle the rest just fine on their own. 

And they did, perfectly. Lee had been the one to call Jade’s grandfather, who was, in her words,  _ the kindest soul, I’m so glad Jade has him _ . He came to pick the kid up quickly, to Connor’s relief, and last he heard, would be providing a permanent home for Jade. Loren was to be sent to court; while it was still uncertain whether she’d be put in jail, her loss of custody over Jade was a given. 

After having viewed a recording of the interrogations, Chris had been forced to warn Connor, easily seeing how his emotion had gotten to him. 

“It’s only been a month, Connor. You shouldn’t have been on that case, it hits too close to home--”

“The scenario was far different, Captain,” Connor argued, and noticed a twitch in Chris’ eyebrow at the title. “It was purely my fault for not handling it professionally.”

The man sighed heavily. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just… take it easy, okay? If you need a personal day here and there, please,  _ please _ , don’t hesitate to take it,” he said, sounding almost desperate. He lifted a hand when Connor opened his mouth to reply. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it. Just think about what I said, and I want a report on the case by the end of the day.”

“Understood, Chris.”

Since the case had been resolved, things had continued smoothly at the DPD. By the end of the week, the chaos brought on by the holidays finally seemed to subside, leaving officers with mostly paperwork to handle. 

Connor was in the midst of his tenth report that day, finding this one particularly gruelling and just wanting to go home to Denuo, when he heard a familiar voice say his name from somewhere across the room. “You’ll find lieutenant Connor over there, at the desk way in the corner.”

“Thank you so much! I’m sorry for pestering you, earlier.” Came a reply, the voice more high-pitched.

The lieutenant looked up from his terminal, welcoming any sort of distraction at this point. What--or  _ who _ , rather--he saw was a pleasant surprise. “Jade!” He called, surprised, to the form running towards him. Nines stood further back, clearly the one who had showed Jade where Connor was. He caught the android’s eyes, giving a short nod in appreciation.

Jade was at his desk in an instant, a bit of a smile on his face. “Hello, lieutenant,” his voice was shy, but so much stronger than Connor last heard it. He looked better in general, a bit of a light in his green eyes that had been so dark before. “I hope I’m not imposing. Uh, I thought Richard was you on the way here.”

The android let out a light laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first. And please, call me Connor,” he said. Being referred to by his title only reminded him of Hank, so he convinced most people to call him by his name. “And you’re certainly not. Any distraction from all these reports is a welcome one. How are you?”

“I’m...I’m doing good,” Jade said softly. “As good as I can be. I, uh, I think I’m happier, or at least I will be, living with my grandfather.”

A gentle smile graced Connor’s face, and the boy seemed to visibly relax. “I’m glad. Your grandfather sounds like a good man.”

The teen nodded eagerly. “He really is. I’m grateful to him.”

“Are you taking care of yourself? It’s easy to see that you’re a strong kid, but what you experienced was highly traumatic.”

Looking hesitant, Jade nodded. “Yeah, my grandpa found a therapist for me. She’s really nice. She’s, uh, going to help me with gender dysphoria, too...transitioning, and all that.”

Satisfied, Connor nodded. “That’s good to hear,” he said, and there was an awkward pause. “Ah, was there something I could help you with..?”

Jade shook himself. “Oh, right! Sorry. I just came to thank you. If you hadn’t been there...if my mom hadn’t confessed..,” the boy paused, seeming conflicted. His eyes glanced down, before looking back up at him with more determination. “I had no doubt that you would believe her, to be honest, and I was completely wrong. I...I really can’t thank you enough.”

Touched, Connor smiled lopsidedly, unsure what to say at first. “It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have the courage to tell me the truth, Jade. You fought for yourself, despite everything you were put through. I don’t put it lightly when I say you’re incredibly strong.”

One moment he was looking hesitant, the next, Jade was around his desk and wrapping his arms around Connor’s neck. He was taken aback at first, but composed himself, returning the sudden embrace slowly.

When he pulled back, Jade turned his attention to a picture frame on Connor’s desk. “Is that your father?”

The android turned towards it, a lump catching in his throat when he looked at the photo, despite the fact that it was right there in front of him every day. “Yes, it, uh, it is,” he said, contemplating it. It was him and Hank, standing outside the precinct. Connor was holding up his badge with a grin, while Hank had an arm slung around his partner, wearing a prideful smile. “That was taken a long time ago. It was when I’d officially become an officer, here. Hank was my partner for a long while.”

Jade gazed at it awhile before speaking again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The lieutenant just shook his head, clearing his throat over the stubborn lump. “That’s alright. Thank you, Jade.”

“Oh!” He said suddenly, moving to shuffle through the messenger bag at his hip. “I almost forgot, this is for you.”

“You didn’t have to--” Connor stopped himself when he saw what had been placed on the desk, a sudden laugh bubbling out of him, cutting through the suddenly tense air.

“I finished the ones you gave me. Figured returning the favour was the least I could do.” Jade explained with a smile.

Connor looked at the bag of M&Ms fondly. “Thank you, Jade. This means a lot.”

* * *

 

Despite Connor’s assurances that he wasn’t imposing, Jade insisted on leaving quickly after that. The android gave him his number, urging that he call for anything, and a part of him hoped the boy would. 

He hurried out quickly, but not before recognizing Alex and Lee, and giving them his thanks as well. Connor watched with light amusement as he hugged both of them, Alex looking the most taken aback by the action than he’d ever seen her.

Very rarely did Connor get the chance to see the aftermath of one of his resolved cases. It was...liberating, he thought. It truly gave him the sense that he was doing something, gave him a newfound appreciation for his work. It was so easy for it to become tainted, to seem negative and tiring. Perhaps Chris was right; maybe he would take more personal days, break his stellar record for once.

Change a little.

Trained once more on the screen of his terminal, Connor tried to focus but found his mind wandering. For once, he actually let it, knowing he’d done more paperwork than what was necessary for the day. Knowing it was okay to pace himself, for once.

That is, until he found a large form leaning on his desk suddenly.

Connor gazed up at his lookalike, wondering what Nines could possibly need of him. The tensity of their relationship had not yet been broken, and Connor was sure there was nothing work-related that would require any information of him.

He was surprised, then, at the softness he found in the eyes of the person he’d call a brother. “That was Jade, wasn’t it?”

Blinking a little, Connor nodded. “Yes. How did you know about him?”

“Lee told me about the case, and that you interrogated him. She originally wanted me to, but I was preoccupied at the time,” he explained, and added a very soft, “I apologize for that.”

The other android was still confused at the purpose of this conversation. “Why? You don’t need to.”

He received an almost exasperated look in return. “The case involved a subject that was...delicate for you, especially with how early--”

_ Oh, of course _ . Connor just rolled his eyes, stopping Nines.

“Don’t give me that look, Eight, it’s true,” he warned, and the inferior model scrunched his eyebrows at the nickname. “You shouldn’t have had to work on that case.”

Connor huffed. “There is a  _ very _ large difference between that case and my personal issues. The only thing in common was the death of...the death of a father,” he knew Nines had picked up on the stutter, of course, but ignored it. “And besides, I handled it, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” he said suddenly. “The look on the boy’s face made it apparent, when he thought I was you. You should have seen him, he was outside putting up a pretty good scene with the receptionist, trying to convince him to let him in before he saw me.”

The other’s shoulders sagged a bit at that, the uptight feeling he had when he saw Nines leaving him suddenly. “He’s a good kid,” Connor said, voice soft. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Nines stared at him for a bit, contemplating. “You didn’t, either.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Hank died of a natural cause. I was lucky to have known him for as long as I--”

“No one deserves to lose family, Connor, no matter what the circumstances. You’re allowed to mourn. You’re allowed to be reminded of it by that case. You don’t have to sell your issues short.”

That damn lump was back in Connor’s throat as he looked up at the other android in light surprise, more abrasive this time. He bit his lip, looking down at the picture on his desk, at his father’s elated expression. At his own contentedness. He rubbed his hands together, fidgeting, trying to ward back the burning in his eyes, but tears came anyway. “Dammit,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes in annoyance.

He felt strong hands at his shoulders, but refused to look up at the other, embarrassed. “It’s alright,” Nines assured, and Connor felt him move a little, presumably to hide the crying android with his body. “You can’t keep this all to yourself, Eight. You can talk to me.”

"I apologize," Connor said shakily, "for not contacting you. I should have at least answered your texts, it was stupid of me--"

"Shh, it's fine. I'm sorry for holding it against you."

Trying to muffle a sob with his hands, he leaned in to his brother’s touch. “I miss him.” he said weakly, quietly.

Nines pulled him in for a hug. He eventually urged Connor to his feet, dragging him to an unused room to let out his overflowing emotions in peace. He stayed with him until he calmed down, talking to him, providing distraction, and Connor would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate it.

He no longer had Hank, the one person he allowed himself to break in front of, to cry, to let out any lingering emotions. That person was gone, but that didn’t mean Connor would have to hold everything in for himself. 

Change was inevitable, now. He wasn’t alone, he was just stubborn, prideful, not wanting others to see him vulnerable. But it wasn’t so easy to hide, not always.

He’d be okay. But first, he needed the time to recognize his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this and the last chapter are the parts of the fic I'm worried about, because it's the aftermath of Hank's death and doesn't really involve him. Still, I wanted to explore how Connor would handle situations like these, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it. I'd love to hear how you're feeling about it.
> 
> I'm fairly certain there will only be one chapter left, however I'm considering adding some extras, like Hank's point of view of certain flashback scenes. If that sounds interesting, let me know.
> 
> EDIT: I don't think everyone's really looking here anymore, but in case some people are, I've decided to leave this chapter as the end. There are so many other things I've wanted to focus on and this has just been eating away at me, it started feeling like a chore rather than something fun. So I thought about it, and figured this was a decent way to end it. I feel confident with this chapter, and I don't want to ruin it with another half-assed one. I hope you understand. Thank you for reading!


End file.
